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THE 

SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE 
OF  DANTE 


KIRKUP'S  SKETCH  OF  THE  GIOTTO  FRESCO. 


THE 

SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE 
OF  DANTE 


BY    THE 

RT.  REV.  W.  BOYD  CARPENTER 

K.C.V.O.,  D.D.,  D.C.L.,  D.LITT.,  LL.D., 

CANON    OF    WESTMINSTER   AND    CLERK    OF    THE   CLOSET   TO   THE    KING  ; 
LATE   BISHOP  OF    RIPON 


CAMBRIDGE 
HARVARD  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 

1914 


THE 

WILLIAM  BELDEN  NOBLE 
LECTURES 

THIS  Lectureship  was  constituted  a  perpetual 
foundation  in  Harvard  University  in  1898,  as  a 
memorial  to  the  late  William  Belden  Noble  of 
Washington,  B.C.  (Harvard,  1885).  The  deed 
of  gift  provides  that  the  lectures  shall  be  not  less 
than  six  in  number,  that  they  shall  be  delivered 
annually,  and,  if  convenient,  in  the  Phillips 
Brooks  House,  during  the  season  of  Advent. 
Each  lecturer  shall  have  ample  notice  of  his 
appointment,  and  the  publication  of  each  course 
of  lectures  is  required.  The  purpose  of  the 
Lectureship  will  be  further  seen  in  the  following 
citation  from  the  deed  of  gift  by  which  it  was 
established  : — 

"The  object  of  the  founder  of  the  Lectures  is 
to  continue  the  mission  of  William  Belden  Noble, 
whose  supreme  desire  it  was  to  extend  the  in- 
fluence of  Jesus  as  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the 
life  ;  to  make  known  the  meaning  of  the  words  of 


vi     SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Jesus,  c  I  am  come  that  they  might  have  life,  and 
that  they  might  have  it  more  abundantly.'  In 
accordance  with  the  large  interpretation  of  the 
influence  of  Jesus  by  the  late  Phillips  Brooks, 
with  whose  religious  teaching  he  in  whose  memory 
the  Lectures  are  established,  and  also  the  founder 
of  the  Lectures,  were  in  deep  sympathy,  it  is  in- 
tended that  the  scope  of  the  Lectures  shall  be  as 
wide  as  the  highest  interests  of  humanity.  With 
this  end  in  view, — the  perfection  of  the  spiritual 
man  and  the  consecration  by  the  spirit  of  Jesus  of 
every  department  of  human  character,  thought  and 
activity,  —  the  Lectures  may  include  philosophy, 
literature,  art,  poetry,  the  natural  sciences,  politi- 
cal economy,  sociology,  ethics,  history  both  civil 
and  ecclesiastical,  as  well  as  theology,  and  the 
more  direct  interests  of  the  religious  life.  Beyond 
a  sympathy  with  the  purposes  of  the  Lectures,  as 
thus  defined,  no  restriction  is  placed  upon  the 
lecturer." 


PREFACE 

THESE  lectures  are  published  according  to  the 
conditions  laid  down  by  the  Noble  Trust.  They 
are  not  intended  as  a  contribution  to  the  critical 
study  of  the  Divina  Commedia  :  they  are  rather 
designed  to  be  illustrative  of  the  principles  set 
out  in  the  Noble  Lectures  which  I  gave  in  1904. 
They  are  simply  thoughts  on  religious  experience 
as  exemplified  in  Dante's  poem.  They  were  given 
without  manuscript,  and  as  presented  here  they 
are  compilations  from  notes,  not  written  lectures. 
Some  repetition  is  needful  in  addresses  orally 
given.  Such  repetitions  are  blemishes  in  the 
printed  lectures  ;  but  I  could  not  remove  such 
blemishes  without  recasting  the  lectures  and 
altering  their  character  as  spoken  addresses. 

In  conclusion  I  wish  to  acknowledge  the  valuable 
help  given  me  by  three  friends,  the  Hon.  William 
Warren  Vernon,  the  Rev.  Canon  Moore,  and 
Dr  Paget  Toynbee.  To  the  debt  which,  in 
common  with  all  Dante  students,  I  owe  them, 

vii 


Vlll 


SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 


they  have  added  the  personal  kindness  of  reading 
the  proof-sheets  of  these  lectures.  Their  thought- 
ful criticism  and  suggestions  have  helped  me 
much.  For  their  willing  and  experienced  aid  I 
shall  always  feel  grateful. 

W.  BOYD  CARPENTER. 

P.S. — Some  of  the  illustrations  are  taken  from 
Lord  Vernon's  famous  edition  of  the  Inferno^  and 
I  gladly  join  with  my  publishers  in  acknowledging 
the  kind  way  in  which  the  members  of  Lord 
Vernon's  family  whom  we  approached  approved 
our  wishes  to  reproduce  them.  We  trust  that 
these  reproductions  will  be  regarded  as  a  small 
tribute  to  the  value  of  a  work  which  still  remains 
a  monument  of  loving,  prolonged,  and  painstaking 
devotion  to  the  study  of  Dante. 


December  31^,  1913. 
6  LITTLE  CLOISTERS, 
WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


CONTENTS 

LECTURE  PAGE 

I.  THE  MAN i 

II.  THE    DRAMA    OF    HIS    LIFE    (LIFE 

LOST) 38 

III.  THE  INEXORABLENESS  OF   RIGHT- 

EOUSNESS ("INFERNO")        .         .         74 

IV.  EDUCATIVE   DISCIPLINE    ("PURGA- 

TORIO") 128 

V.  THE    VICTORY    OF    LOVE    ("PARA- 

DISO") 182 

VI.  THE   DRAMA   OF    THE   SOUL  (LIFE 

LOST  AND  FOUND)          ...       226 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Kirkup's  Sketch  of  the  Giotto  Fresco         .       frontispiece 

FACE  PAGE 

Dante  and  his  Book,  after  Michelino          .          .  20 

Antinferno     .......  76 

Avari  e  Prodighi     ......  84 

Lo  Stige         .......  92 

Cadata  del  Montone  presso  S.  Benedetto    .          .  116 

Dante,  after  Luca  Signorelli      ....  236 

Dante,  from  Giotto's  Fresco  in  the  Bargello        .  244 


THE 

SPIRITUAL    MESSAGE 
OF    DANTE 

LECTURE  I 
THE  MAN 

THE  study  of  great  works  is  both  a  discipline  and 
a  delight — it  is  a  discipline  as  it  directs  and  trains 
our  thoughts  :  it  is  a  delight  as  it  evokes  our 
emotions  ;  but  beyond  this  the  greater  works 
have  a  power  more  captivating  and  more  elusive  : 
they  possess  what  we  call  charm  —  something 
which  we  feel  but  which  we  cannot  explain  :  it 
defies  definition.  We  all  remember  Goldsmith's 
quaint  apology  in  the  preface  to  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field  :  "  There  are  a  hundred  faults  in  this  thing, 
and  a  hundred  things  might  be  said  to  prove  them 
beautiful.  But  it  is  needless.  A  book  may  be 
amusing  with  numerous  errors,  or  it  may  be  dull 
without  a  single  absurdity."  We  may  find  fault 
with  every  feature  in  a  face,  but  we  may  admire 


2        SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

it  all  together.     We  shall  not  understand  charm 
by  analysis,  and  greatness  often  defies  it. 

Why  is  the  Divina  Commedia  a  great  poem  ? 
Can  we  give  it  a  place  among  epic  poems  ?  Is  it 
commended  by  its  erudition  ?  Do  we  justify  its 
claim  to  greatness  by  citing  a  number  of  striking 
images  or  eloquent  or  pathetic  passages  ?  We 
feel  at  once  that  these  pleadings  are  inadequate. 
We  feel  that  we  are  nearer  the  mark  when  we 
point  out  the  marvellous  skill  with  which  these 
elements  are  built  into  and  become  features  of  a 
great  and  sublime  whole — an  edifice  grand  in 
conception,  vigorously  harmonious  in  the  relation 
of  its  parts.  It  is  the  superb  structure  which 
evokes  our  admiration.  And  yet  again — are  we 
satisfied  ?  Does  this  greatness  of  design,  even 
when  supported  by  beauty  and  delicacy  of  detail, 
give  the  reason  why  we  place  it  among  eminent 
works  ?  When  we  analyse  the  sunbeam  by  split- 
ting it  up  into  its  sevenfold  hues,  we  may  mark 
the  tints  of  separate  beauty,  but  we  lose  our  sun- 
beam. Thus  dissected,  we  may  admire  the  parts, 
but  we  miss  the  bright  cheerfulness  and  the  genial 
warmth  of  the  beam  which  made  us  glad.  There 
was  a  personal  appeal  to  us  in  the  undivided  sun- 
beam :  it  rejoiced  the  eye  :  it  warmed  the  body. 
Is  there  not  in  like  manner  a  personal  appeal 
which  streams  to  us  from  great  works  ?  The 


THE  MAN  3 

personality  of  the  long  ago  speaks  to  us  !  We 
feel  the  genial  warmth  of  his  common  sympathy : 
we  are  treading  the  great  path  which  he  trod  : 
we  feel,  I  had  almost  said,  the  hand  pressure  of 
that  long  ago.  It  is  not  only  the  great  theme 
which  commands  attention,  but  the  voice  which 
speaks,  for  we  feel  that  it  is  the  voice  of  one  who 
like  ourselves  was  a  wayfarer  on  life's  road. 

The  same  human  touch  quickens  our  interest 
in  drama,  for  in  it  we  may  read  the  history  of  the 
soul.  We  love  to  see  the  courageous  soul  con- 
fronting adversity — refusing  to  be  crushed  by 
fate,  or  else  expiring  nobly,  unconquered  by  the 
dead  weight  of  hard  necessity.  In  this  often  lies 
the  real  fascination  of  Greek  drama ;  in  this  lies 
the  power  of  that  Old  Testament  drama  presented 
in  the  Book  of  Job.  The  patriarch  meets  calamity 
after  calamity  :  he  is  seen  as  a  lonely  individual 
beaten  to  the  earth  by  great  and  inscrutable 
power.  His  trouble  and  perplexity  is  aggravated 
by  the  superficial  chatter  and  conventional  ex- 
planations of  commonplace  minds  :  the  men 
whose  fortunes  .are  unimpaired  can  counsel  cheap 
resignation  :  even  shallow  philosophy  is  sufficient 
to  explain  the  misfortunes  of  others  ;  but  the 
lonely  patriarch  will  not  barter  his  intellectual 
honesty  for  any  comfortable  but  unreal  explana- 
tion. He  will  be  true  to  himself  :  he  will  not 


4       SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

make  his  judgment  blind  :  the  heavy  hand  of 
power  can  find  no  justification  in  the  mere 
exercise  of  power.  Might  cannot  defend  things 
without  some  moral  pleadings.  Job  possesses 
intellectual  honesty  :  and  he  will  hold  fast  his 
integrity.  Here  is  the  problem  of  life  seen 
exerting  its  pressure  :  man  is  groping  towards 
light.  Herein  is  the  power  of  the  book  :  it  finds 
a  place  for  the  soul — the  soul  has  its  drama, 
because  the  soul  has  its  rights. 

Such  great  works  possess  a  power  of  appeal, 
because  they  recognise  the  drama  of  the  soul. 
Sooner  or  later,  said  a  great  French  teacher,  our 
•  interest  is  in  the  soul.  The  thought  of  mankind 
moving  in  cycles  from  naturalism  to  intellectual- 
ism,  perchance  has  found  its  way  back  to-day  to 
the  ever  pressing  question  of  soul- values.  Philo- 
sophical systems  have  been  framed  into  compact 
and  logical  harmony,  but  have  split  asunder 
because  the  soul  has  been  left  out.  A  globe  was 
formed  of  gold  with  a  small  admixture  of  lead  : 
the  lead  was  only  one  ten-thousandth  part  of  the 
whole  ;  but  a  slight  blow  shattered  the  globe  : 
to  be  strong  gold  needs  to  be  blended  with  some 
substance  whose  molecules  are  finer  than  its  own  ; 
the  molecules  of  lead  are  coarser  than  those  of 
gold  :  the  globe  therefore  having  no  homogeneity 
was  shivered.  Philosophical  systems  may  be 


THE  MAN  5 

likened  to  gold,  but  for  enduring  strength  they 
must  admit  that  which  is  of  finer  texture  than 
mere  logical  intellect  :  the  soul  must  be  given 
her  place  in  the  system.  Herein  the  collective 
wisdom  of  mankind  is  greater  than  that  of 
philosophers.  "  Philosophy  is  so  simple,  but  we 
are  so  learned,"  is  said  to  be  the  reproach  of  one 
distinguished  modern  thinker.  Philosophers  have 
often  forgotten  the  soul,  and  so  they  have  mis- 
calculated life -values  ;  but  mankind  has  wel- 
comed every  true  representation  of  the  drama  of 
the  soul.  The  Confessions  of  St  Augustine,  the-1 
story  of  Dr  Faustus,  the  play  of  Hamlet^  the 
Pilgrim  s  Progress^  the  Rubaiydt  of  Omar  Khayyar 
have  awakened  responsive  interest,  because  met 
have  heard  in  them  the  voices  of  the  soul. 

The  Divina  Commedia  is  a  drama  of  the  soul. 
It  has  other  elements  of  'attraction.  By  its  wide 
j-ange,  by  its  vivid  imaginative  power,  by  its  acute 
reflections,  by  its  scholastic  disquisitions,  it  appeals 
to  our  historical,  poetical,  philosophical,  and  theo- 
logical tastes.  To  use  an  illustration.  It  has  its 
architecture,  and  in  it  the  style  of  the  period  may 
be  traced  :  its  decorations  and  embellishments 
excite  the  attention  of  various  experts  :  the  marks 
of  its  age  are  everywhere  upon  it.  But  voices 
which  are  heard  within  are  the  voices  of  the  soul  : 
whatever  may  be  the  character  of  its  columns  and 


6        SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

buttresses,  its  windows  and  its  arches,  the  whole 
building  is  a  place  of  worship.  In  it  we  may 
hear  the  cry  of  the  soul  which  is  striving  to  find 
itself,  to  express  itself,  and  to  reach  at  last  the 
great  central  soul  of  love  in  which  it  can  lose 
itself — burying  the  whole  heart  wide  and  warm  in 
something  greater  than  itself. 

It  is  as  a  soul  drama  that  I  desire  to  set  it 
before  you.  It  is  individual — yes,  markedly  so  : 
the  characteristics  of  a  man  of  strong  individuality 
are  to  be  seen  in  it,  but  it  is  the  drama  of  an 
individual  who  is  finding  his  personality,  if  I  may 
borrow  a  contemporary  distinction  of  phrase. 

The  drama  is  the  drama  of  an  Italian  soul — 
one  Dante  Alighieri  by  name  ;  but  for  all  that 
it  might  be  your  drama  or  mine,  for  its  experi- 
ences follow  the  threefold  cycle  which  philosophers, 
psychologists,  and  religious  teachers  have  described 
in  various  terms.  Sometimes  it  is  the  Nature 
stage  followed  by  the  negative  stage,  which  in  its 
turn  gives  place  to  the  reconstructive  stage.  At 
other  times  it  is  spoken  of  as  satisfaction  followed 
by  dissatisfaction,  and  this  again  succeeded  by 
restored  or  renovated  satisfaction.  Integration 
surrenders  to  disintegration,  and  reintegration 
then  is  achieved.  The  story  may  be  told  in 
varying  fashion.  It  is  complacency  giving  way  to 
struggle,  and  struggle  crowned  by  peace.  It  is 


THE  MAN  7 

self  lost,  and  self  sought,  and  self  found.     We  may 
choose  what  language  we  please,  but  the  experience 
is    common  enough.     It   is  the  struggle  for  the 
possession  of  our  own  spirit :  it  is  a  fight  from 
natural  life  to  spiritual  :  it  is  the  winning  of  self 
after  conflict.     It  reflects  the  Apostle's  thought, 
"  I  was  alive  without  the  law  once,  but  when  the 
commandment  came  sin  revived,  and  I  died  ;  but 
the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath 
made  me  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  of  death." 
Dante  presents  us  with   a   cycle   of   experiences 
which  have  a  profound  significance  for  the  soul. 
He  is  a  man  who  goes  on  a  pilgrimage  seeking 
liberty.     From  one  point  of  view  it  is  the  story 
of   a  man  going  in    search   of   his    soul.     From 
another  it  is  the  story  of  the  way  in  which  God 
educates  a  man's  soul.     It  is  the  same  experience 
described  from  opposite  sides.     Without  adopting 
any  of  the  particular  terms  which  have  been  used 
by  teachers  and  thinkers,  it  is  enough  for  us  that 
we   have  in  the  Divina   Commedia   the   chronicle 
of  a  great  human  experience  :  it  sets  out  the  story 
of   a  soul  passing  through   such    an  experience  : 
yet  not  as  a  passive  subject,  but  as  a  co-operating 
intelligence.     It  is  not  merely  an  emotional  record 
or  an  intellectual  harmonisation  :  it  is  a  living  ex- 
perience, set  forth  in  threefold  stages,  and  in  each 
stage  Dante  shared.     It  is  the  drama  of  a  soul. 


8        SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

There  are  many  seductive  bypaths  along  which 
one  might  be  tempted  to  stray,  and  I  do  not 
promise  that  I  may  not  be  beguiled  to  stray,  but 
my  purpose  is  not  to  stray  far  enough  to  forget 
the  sequence  of  the  scenes  which  make  up  the 
dramatic  whole. 

Is  there  any  one  thought  which  may  be  said 
to  govern  the  whole  ?  Is  there  any  word  which, 
like  the  keynote  of  a  melody,  becomes  dominant 
in  the  drama  ?  I  think  there  is.  The  one  word 
which  gives  us  the  clue  to  the  whole  is  love. 
Perhaps  we  may  lose  the  force  of  its  dramatic 
development  by  claiming  thus  early  that  love  lies 
behind  the  play  ;  but  Dante  himself  has  warned 
us  that  his  work  is  not  a  tragedy :  we  are 
watching  the  unfolding  of  acts  which  are  to 
have  a  happy  and  glorious  close.  The  drama 
of  the  soul  may  possess  tragic  elements — it  has, 
as  we  know,  tragic  possibilities,  but  it  is  moving 
forward  to  final  scenes  over  which  the  light  of 
heaven  will  shine  and  the  music  of  heaven  be 
heard  ;  for  love  lies  behind  the  movements  of 
the  universe.  Hence,  while  I  speak  of  it  as 
the  drama  of  the  soul,  I  must  also  regard  it  as  an 
unfolding  of  a  divine  education  of  man.  From 
—  beginning  to  end,  love — divine  love — is  working 
for  the  illumination,  emancipation,  and  salvation 
of  the  souj.  It  is  an  education  at  the  hand 


THE  MAN  9 

of  love.  Amore^  amore,  amore — the  sound  is 
heard  loudest  and  loftiest  in  the  happy  realms  of 
Paradise,  but  it  speaks  on  the  winding  terraces 
of  Purgatory,  and  even  in  Hell  it  is  not  silent. 
"  If  I  go  up  to  heaven  love  is  there :  if  I  take  the 
wings  of  the  morning  to  begin  the  new  life,  it  is 
there  :  if  I  go  down  into  hell,  it  is  there  also." 
Every  step  of  the  way  the  pilgrim's  feet  are 
guided  and  safeguarded  by  grace  and  light  from 
heaven  :  love  never  fails  him  :  it  moves  to  his 
aid  though  the  pilgrim  has  not  yet  opened  the 
door  of  his  heart  to  let  it  in  :  it  acts  through 
various  agencies  to  direct  and  protect  the  pilgrim  : 
it  stands  waiting  for  the  moment  when  the  gate  of 
the  heart  will  be  thrown  open  to  its  influence  : 
and  when  it  at  length  gains  admission  it  vitalises, 
illumines,  invigorates,  and  uplifts  the  soul  into 
the  regions  which  are  peaceful  through  intensity 
of  activity.  The  drama  from  the  heavenly  side 
is  the  education  of  the  soul. 

It  is  as  a  drama  of  the  soul  that  we  are  to 
regard  it.  For  this  we  need  to  know  something 
of  the  character  and  circumstances  of  the  man 
whose  spiritual  drama  is  set  forth.  What  manner 
of  man  was  Dante  ?  What  were  his  earthly 
experiences  ?  What  did  life  do  for  him  ?  What 
did  he  say  of  life  ?  These  are  the  questions 
we  ask. 


io      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

First,  then,  what  kind  of  a  man  was  Dante  ? 
In  other  words,  what  was  the  nature  of  the  raw 
material  out  of  which  this  poet,  who  is  to  become 
a  great  spiritual  teacher,  was  formed  ? 

Can  we  conjure  up  his  likeness  ?  We  have  three 
chief  sources  of  information  :  we  have  a  description 
of  his  personal  appearance  given  by  Boccaccio  ; 
we  have  a  portrait  on  the  walls  of  the  Bargello  at 
Florence  ;  and  lastly,  we  have  the  mask,  said  to 
have  been  taken  from  the  poet's  face  shortly  after 
his  death.  There  is  enough  resemblance  between 
the  painting,  the  mask,  and  Boccaccio's  description 
to  give  us  confidence  in  their  general  correctness. 
What,  then,  was  Dante  like  ? 

Guided  by  Giotto's  picture,  I  can  see  him 
walking  with  a  quiet  and  even  step  along  the 
streets  of  Florence  :  his  somewhat  shallow  brow 
is  unwrinkled  :  the  chin  is  strong  and  firm  :  the 
mouth  hints  lightly  at  some  self-confidence,  tinged 
perhaps  with  scorn  of  empty  heads  :  the  nose — 
"  the  index  of  the  face,  the  rudder  of  the  will " — 
is  long,  firm,  and  tending  towards  the  command- 
ing type.  He  wears  his  robe  with  dignity, 
avoiding  ungainly  fold  or  gesture  :  his  mouth  can 
move  to  laughter,  while  his  eye  is  steady,  or  again, 
the  light  of  mirth  will  flicker  across  the  eye  while 
the  face  remains  unmoved  :  he  can  indulge  in 
impressions  and  emotions  without  losing  his  self- 


THE  MAN  n 

control.  Guided  by  the  features  which  the  mask 
discloses,  I  can  see  him,  lean  and  gaunt,  with  a 
visage  marked  by  pain,  disappointment,  dis- 
illusion, climbing  some  mountain  path,  bending  his 
head  before  a  sudden  blizzard,  and  groping  his 
way  through  blinding  snow  to  the  door  of  some 
peasant's  hut  and  asking  shelter  for  the  night. 
He  takes  his  seat  on  the  bench  within,  loosens  his 
mantle,  and  by  the  flickering  firelight  we  may 
read  the  story  which  broken  hopes,  loneliness,  and 
heart-hunger  have  written  upon  his  countenance. 
I  may  turn  to  Boccaccio's  pages,  and  read  that 
Dante  "  was  of  middle  height.  His  face  was  long, 
his  nose  aquiline,  his  eyes  rather  large  than  small, 
his  jaws  heavy,  with  the  under  lip  projecting 
beyond  the  upper.  His  complexion  was  dark, 
and  his  hair  and  beard  thick,  black,  and  crisp  ;  and 
his  countenance  always  sad  and  thoughtful." 
This  is  a  picture  of  the  poet  in  his  mature  years. 
Carlyle  advised  us  to  get  a  portrait  of  any  hero 
whose  life  we  wished  to  study.  Carlyle  was  right, 
for  the  portrait  helps  our  imagination  :  it  affords 
us  a  rough  key,  if  we  are  physiognomists,  to 
unlock,  perhaps,  some  hidden  treasure-house  of 
the  life  ;  but  yet  how  small  a  thing  it  is  !  It  can 
but  show  us  the  man  at  one  epoch,  perhaps  only 
in  one  mood  :  the  lines  of  the  face  are  fixed  :  the 
expression  will  not  change  :  it  is  but  a  passing 


12      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

vestige  of  the  man,  not  the  man  himself.  This 
face  has  no  laughter  in  it.  We  cannot  catch  upon 
it  the  magic  gleam  which  crossed  it  as  the  happy 
jest  rose  to  the  mind  ere  it  broke  from  the  lips. 
This  face  is  set,  silent,  sphinx-like.  It  is  not  the 
face  of  the  tender  friend  who  took  the  sorrowful  by 
the  hand  and  looked  compassion  upon  them  with 
dewy  eyes.  It  is  something,  a  little  better  than 
nothing  :  it  gives  shape,  feature,  outline,  but  it 
is  not  life.  If  it  is  the  vessel  at  all,  it  is  the 
vessel  at  anchor — "a  painted  ship  upon  a  painted 
ocean "  ;  it  is  not  the  ship  splendid,  glorious, 
moving  in  full  sail,  walking  the  waters  like  a  thing 
of  life. 

We  may  feel  all  this  as  we  look  at  Giotto's 
portrait  or  the  mask  of  Dante.  We  can  realise 
something  about  the  poet  as  we  contemplate 
these  likenesses  :  we  see  a  countenance,  strong, 
sad,  stern,  proudly  reticent — the  portrait  of  one 
who  could  suffer  and  be  silent.  But  is  it  Dante  ? 
Do  we  not  miss  something  ?  Where,  we  may 
ask,  is  the  elevation  of  the  poet's  soul  ?  The 
exalted  eye  of  one  who  has  suffered  and  triumphed  ? 
The  rapt  aspect  of  him  who  beheld  the  light  of 
heaven  and  the  joys  of  the  blessed  ?  Shall  we 
answer  :  "  Life  teaches  man  to  wear  a  mask,  lest  his 
face  should  reveal  too  much  "  ?  It  is  true  that  man 
in  his  sad  pilgrimage  is  often  compelled  to  assume 


THE  MAN  13 

the  veil  of  defensive  pride,  till  hard-won  habit 
arms  him  with  the  enigmatic  countenance  which 
defies  the  scrutiny  of  intrusive  curiosity.  Shall 
we  answer  thus  ?  or  shall  we  say  :  "  The  face  upon 
which  we  look  is  the  face  which  has  drooped  in 
death.  It  is  no  longer  under  the  government  of 
the  strong  will,  or  of  the  joyous  and  triumphant 
soul  :  those  blank  eyes  have  no  power  to  let 
loose  the  look  of  tenderness  or  to  lighten  with 
gleams  of  hope  and  glances  of  love  "  ?  It  is  but  a 
mask  after  all  :  the  real  man  is  not  here.  All  that 
this  poor  thing  can  tell  us  is  the  record  of  the 
lines  which  hardship,  disappointment,  endurance 
graved  upon  the  suffering  frame.  It  can  tell  us 
nothing  of  the  inward  drama — of  the  thrill  of 
gladness,  of  the  victorious  contentment,  and  lastly 
of  the  peace  which  passed  understanding.  These 
things  were  written  not  upon  the  dead  brow,  but 
upon  the  tablets  of  the  soul. 

Let  us  look  at  the  portrait,  mark  it  carefully, 
and  then  put  it  away,  or  write  beneath  it  the 
motto  which  was  inscribed  beneath  Buchanan's 
likeness  :  "  Pete  scripta  et  astra,  si  vis  nosse 
mentem  suam."  ("  Seek  his  writings,  but  seek  also 
the  starry  spirit  which  animated  him,  if  you  would 
know  his  mind.")  So  let  us  seek  to  know  Dante. 
We  shall  learn  something  of  the  man  from  the 
story  of  his  life  and  how  he  held  himself  amid  its 


i4      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

changing  scenes  ;  but  we  shall  learn  still  more 
from  his  writings.  From  these  we  shall  be  able 
to  form  a  truer  portrait  of  him  ;  for  as  he  writes 
he  will  reveal  himself,  and  we  shall  understand 
him  better  as  unconsciously  he  discloses  to  us 
what  manner  of  man  he  was. 

Sometimes  critics  have  sought  to  reconstruct 
the  personal  character  of  a  poet  from  his  writings. 
Professor  Masson  tried  to  derive  from  the 
plays  of  Shakespeare  a  portrait  of  the  great 
dramatist.  Shakespeare  had  put  many  characters 
upon  the  stage.  Did  he  in  any  one  character 
picture  himself,  or,  if  not,  was  it  possible  to  group 
together  such  harmonious  and  recurrent  features 
as  would  give  to  us  the  true  Shakespeare  ?  The 
Professor  thought  so,  and  he  presented  for  our 
acceptance  his  portrait  of  Shakespeare.  It  was  a 
Shakespeare  haunted  by  deep  questionings,  keenly 
alive  to  life's  disappointments,  possessed  of  a 
soul  almost  morbidly  fond  of  dwelling  on  dark 
things,  and  marked  therefore  by  a  deep  melancholy 
of  soul.  It  was  a  blend  of  Hamlet,  Jaques,  and 
King  Richard.  Not  everyone  will  accept  such  a 
portrait  as  exact  or  trustworthy.  Many  of  us  will 
ask, "  Can  our  many-sided  Shakespeare  be  presented 
to  us  by  this  eclectic  method  ? "  Whatever  portrait 
is  evolved,  shall  we  not  always  feel  that  he  was 
greater  than  that  ?  We  cannot  think  of  him  as  a 


THE  MAN  15 

kindly  Hamlet,  or  as  a  melancholy  Jaques,  or 
as  a  gloomy  and  desponding  Richard.  If  any 
character  is  to  be  chosen,  Prospero  comes  nearer 
to  my  thought  of  him,  but  even  this  is  not  all 
Shakespeare  :  it  is  not  Shakespeare  in  his  youth  : 
it  is  rather  the  Shakespeare  of  one  epoch  of  his 
career,  the  Shakespeare  who  has  lived  and  can 
now  survey  life  with  a  happy  detachment.  It  is 
a  man  without  cynicism  :  no  irritating  laudator 
temporis  acti  who  is  for  ever  flinging  the  past  in 
the  happy  and  hopeful  face  of  youth,  but  a  kind- 
hearted  man  with  a  quick  and  tender  sympathy 
with  the  young  lives  which  are  budding  around 
him.  But  this  is  all  fancy  !  It  is  speculation, 
unverifiable,  misleading.  Shakespeare,  like  Jove, 
takes  many  shapes,  and  defies  us  to  detect  him  as 
he  passes  from  form  to  form. 

Happily,  with  Dante  it  is  different  :  we  have  to  » 
deal  with  a  more  clearly  defined  individuality  :  he 
is  the  hero  of  his  own  poem  :  he  is  not,  however,  / 
a  vainglorious  hero  :  he  describes  vivid  incidents 
and  stirring  adventures,  but  he  never  writes  quorum 
pars  magna  fui :  and  yet  he  was  more  than  a  great 
part  of  his  own  story  :  he  was  the  centre  of  the 
whole  action  of  his  great  poem.  Dante  himself 
is  its  very  life.  His  figure  is  never  obtruded 
upon  us,  but  nevertheless  he  is  constantly  reveal- 
ing himself  to  us,  and  as  we  read  we  realise  how 


1 6      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

much  his  presence  counts  in  the  work.  We 
never  resent  this  presence  :  our  interest  centres 
in  it.  We  feel  about  Dante  as  we  do  about 
Christian  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  Bunyan's 
story,  though  so  personal,  is  yet  so  impersonal  : 
it  ceases  to  be  obtrusively  personal  because  it  is 
the  picture  of  so  many.  In  a  similar  fashion 
Dante's  poem  is  in  one  sense  impersonal,  and  yet 
the  personality  of  the  pilgrim  is  perhaps  the  most 
vivid  thing  in  the  whole  poem. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  this  personality  by 
setting  down  a  mere  catalogue  of  the  characteristics 
of  Dante  as  they  are  disclosed  in  the  course  of 
the  story.  On  the  other  hand,  we  must  note  these 
separately  or  we  shall  fail  to  draw  for  ourselves 
any  picture  of  what  manner  of  man  he  was. 
Perhaps  we  may  best  achieve  our  aim  by  grouping 
certain  characteristics  and  citing  certain  passages 
which  tell  their  own  story. 

First,  I  may  recall  to  your  mind  the  keen  and 
varied  powers  of  observation  which  his  works 
disclose.  Dante  is  a  man  who  perceives  and 
reflects.  "Wisdom  is  before  him  that  hath 
understanding  :  but  the  eyes  of  a  fool  are  in  the 
ends  of  the  earth  "  (Prov.  xvii.  24).  How  many 
there  are  who,  for  this  reason,  when  travelling 
from  Dan  to  Beersheba  cry  out  that  all  the  land 
is  barren.  But  Dante  is  not  of  these  :  the  world 


THE  MAN  17 

lies  open  before  him  with  all  its  beauty  and 
its  entrancing  changes  :  he  is  Dante  "  who  saw 
everything."  But  he  not  only  saw,  he  noted  : 
he  stored  in  his  memory  what  he  saw,  and  as  he 
needed  he  brought  forth  from  his  treasure  things 
new  and  old.  We  shall  realise  this  if  we  recall 
the  natural  objects  to  which  he  refers,  and  from 
which  he  derives  so  many  illustrations.  The 
leopard,  the  lion,  the  wolf,  the  mastiff  and  the 
greyhound,  the  goat  and  the  sheep,  the  fox,  the 
beaver,  the  otter,  the  she-cat  and  the  mouse  and 
the  mole,  the  elephant  and  the  bear,  the  horse, 
the  ass,  and  the  mule  are  among  the  animals  he 
names.  He  bids  us  look  up  and  see  the  birds  of 
the  air,  and  he  speaks  of  the  kite  and  the  eagle, 
the  crow  and  the  rook,  the  goose  and  the  cock, 
the  crane,  the  stork,  and  the  pelican,  the  blackbird 
and  the  magpie,  the  dove  and  the  swan,  the 
starling,  the  swallow,  the  lark,  and  the  nightin- 
gale. Insects  he  notices  :  the  fly  and  the  gadfly, 
the  wasp  and  the  bee,  the  ant  and  the  spider,  the 
firefly  and  the  butterfly,  the  locust,  and  even  the 
detested  flea.  The  lizard,  the  snail,  and  the 
scorpion,  the  frog,  besides  the  dolphin  and  the 
whale,  are  made  to  serve  his  purpose.  There  are 
no  fewer  than  between  fifty  and  sixty  living 
creatures  mentioned  in  his  works. 

He  notes  the  features  of  men  :  he  singles  out 

2 


1 8      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

the  eagle  eye  of  Caesar  ;  he  marks  the  spare  loins 
of  Michael  Scot ;  the  small  nose  of  Philippe  III. 
of  France,  with  the  large  and  masculine  nose  of 
Charles  I.  of  Anjou.  He  marks  the  gestures  of 
men,  which  are  eloquent  of  their  occupation  or 
their  emotion.  The  swift  movement  of  the 
runner  ;  the  keen  eye  and  nervous  fingers  of  the 
tailor  as  he  threads  his  needle  (Inf.  xv.  18-20)  ; 
the  clasped  arms  of  the  naked  woman  hugging 
close  her  babe  as  she  escapes  from  the  burning 
house  (Inf.  xxiii.  39-42)  ;  the  stern  self-possession 
of  Farinata,  whose  very  motionlessness  becomes 
an  eloquent  gesture  of  pride,  in  contrast  with  the 
emotion  of  the  grief-stricken  Cavalcante.  What 
character  is  expressed  in  the  lines  which  tell  of 
these  two  men  in  hell !  Cavalcante  peering  round 
with  eager  and  anxious  eyes  in  search  of  his  son, 
and  asking  with  tearful  voice  about  his  welfare, 
then  sinking  broken-hearted  back  into  his  fiery 
shroud.  Farinata,  with  disdainful  bearing — his 
lifted  eyebrow  showing  his  unquenched  scorn, — 
unmoved  by  the  other's  emotion,  waiting  with 
superbly  rigid  patience  and  then  continuing  his 
speech  as  though  no  interruption  had  occurred. 
None  but  a  keen  observer  of  men  could  have 
drawn  such  a  picture. 

And  as  Dante  marks  the  characteristic  gestures 
of  men,  so  he  notes  effects  in  Nature — effects  of 


THE  MAN  19 

water  and  of  fire  :  the  steaming  hand  in  the  winter 
stream  (Inf.  xxx.  92)  ;  oil  in  flame  (Inf.  xix.  28)  ; 
green  wood  (Inf.  xiii.  40)  ;  the  darkening  tint  of 
burning  paper  (Inf.  xxv.  64). 

His  frequent  similes  show  not  only  a  man 
observant  of  Nature,  but  in  true  sympathy  with  it. 
These  revived  spirits  are  like  flowers  awakening 
in  the  dawn  : 

"  As  florets,  by  the  frosty  air  of  night 

Bent  down  and  closed,  when  day  has  blanch'd  their 

leaves, 
Rise  all  unfolded  on  their  spiry  stems." 

(Inf.  ii.  127-129.) 

The  souls  whose  lives  have  flung  away  their 
glory  are,  when  driven  to  their  judgment  at 
Charon's  bidding,  like  autumn  leaves  : 

"  As  fall  oft*  the  light  autumnal  leaves, 
One  still  another  following,  till  the  bough 
Strews  all  its  honours  on  the  earth  beneath." 

(Inf.  iii.  104-106.) 

The  spendthrifts  and  the  misers  clash  together 
like  opposing  waves  : 

"  E'en  as  a  billow,  in  Charybdis  rising, 
Against  encountered  billow  dashing  breaks." 

(Inf.  vii.  22,  23.) 

But   more  characteristic  of   Dante's  faculty  of 


20      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

observation  and  reflection  is  his  habit  of  using 
mental  states  to  illustrate  his  subject.  Thus  early 
in  the  poem  he  pictures  his  own  vacillation  of 

thought : 

"  As  one,  who  unresolves 

What  he  hath  late  resolved,  and  with  new  thoughts 
Changes  his  purpose,  from  his  first  intent 
Removed  ;  e'en  such  was  I  on  that  dun  coast, 
Wasting  in  thought  my  enterprise,  at  first 
So  eagerly  embraced."  (Inf.  ii.  39-44.) 

The  quick  changes  of  mind  from  eagerness  to 
know  the  worst,  to  panic-stricken  flight  at  behold- 
ing it,  are  given  when  the  pilgrim  fears  treachery 
from  demons  in  the  eighth  circle  : 

"  I  turn'd  myself,  as  one 
Impatient  to  behold  that  which  beheld 
He  needs  must  shun,  whom  sudden  fear  unmans, 
That  he  his  flight  delays  not  for  the  view." 

(Inf.  xxi.  24-27.) 

The  strange  subconscious  hope  which  mingles 
with  a  dreadful  dream  is  described  when  Dante 
finds  himself  ashamed  of  his  own  vulgar  curiosity, 
which  provoked  Virgil's  angry  contempt  : 

"  As  a  man  that  dreams  of  harm 
Befallen  him,  dreaming,  wishes  it  a  dream, 
And  that  which  is,  desires  as  if  it  were  not , 


o 


E  1! 


H 
5? 


THE  MAN  21 

Such  then  was  I,  who,  wanting  power  to  speak, 
Wish'd  to  excuse  myself,  and  all  the  while 
Excused  me,  though  unweeting  that  I  did." 

(Inf.  xxx.  134-139.) 

Sordello's  bewildered  delight  at  meeting  Virgil 
is  pictured  as  a  joy  so  eager  as  to  beget  doubt : 

"  As  one,  who  aught  before  him  suddenly 
Beholding,  whence  his  wonder  riseth,  cries, 

c  It  is,  yet  is  not,'  wavering  in  belief ; 
Such  he  appear'd."  (Purg.  vii.  9-12.) 

More  curious  is  the  way  in  which  he  describes 
his  own  sense  of  surprise  when  he  becomes  aware 
that  one  of  the  seven  sin-marks  has  left  his  brow  : 

"  Then  like  to  one,  upon  whose  head  is  placed 
Somewhat  he  deems  not  of,  but  from  the  becks 
Of  others,  as  they  pass  him  by  ;  his  hand 
Lends  therefore  help  to  assure  him,  searches,  finds, 
And  well  performs  such  office  as  the  eye 
Wants  power  to  execute  ;  so  stretching  forth 
The  fingers  of  my  right  hand,  did  I  find 
Six  only  of  the  letters,  which  his  sword 
Who  bare  the  keys,  had  traced  upon  my  brow." 

(Purg.  xii.  120-128.) 

I  need  not  multiply  examples.  1  have  given 
enough  to  show  that  Dante  is  well  called  the  "  man 
who  saw  everything "  ;  but  he  saw  as  one  who 
attaches  meaning  to  what  he  saw.  He  saw  not 


22      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

as  the  empty  gazer  who  idly  glances  at  a  passing 
object  ;  but  as  the  true  seer  whose  mind,  like  a 
sword-thrust,  pierces  to  the  heart  of  what  he  sees, 
seizes  it,  and  makes  it  a  possession  ;  he  takes  truth 
captive  with  his  spear  and  his  bow. 

Again,  if  Dante  is  keenly  observant,  he  is  also 
keenly  sensitive  :  his  intellectual  power  leads  him 
to  observe  and  reflect :  his  emotional  power  en- 
ables him  to  feel.  Thus  he  early  lets  us  see 
the  struggle  which  even  great  souls  experience 
between  the  audacity  of  conscious  power  and  the 
timidity  of  a  sensitive  temperament.  The  men 
who  do  great  things  are  not,  as  a  rule,  the  men 
impervious  to  fear  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  the 
mind  which  realises  the  greatness  of  a  task  which 
is  most  open  to  the  onset  of  nervous  terror. 
The  panic  of  the  coming  effort  has  smitten  great 
orators  with  the  restlessness  of  apprehension  or 
jhe  icy  touch  of  positive  fear.  "  How  cold  your 
hand  is,"  said  a  friend  to  William  Pitt  one  night 
in  the  House  of  Commons.  "  Is  it  ? "  was  the 
answer.  "  Then  I  shall  speak  well."  "  You  will 
say  —  you  are  too  nervous,"  said  the  greatest 
orator  among  English  prelates — "  Let  me  tell  you 
that  if  you  are  not  nervous  you  will  never  do 
it."  The  imagination  which  can  conceive  the 
magnitude  of  the  task  can  best  realise  its  diffi- 
culties. All  this  is  well  known,  and  this  is  what 


THE  MAN  23 

we  find  disclosed  to  us  by  Dante.  He  pictures 
the  lofty  enterprise  to  which  he  is  committed  : 
he  tells  us  how  fear  seized  him  and  he  shrank, 
driven  to  doubt  by  the  sudden  sense  of  his  own 
weakness  : 

"  But  I,  why  should  I  then  presume  ?  or  who 
Permits  it  ?      Not  ^Eneas  I,  nor  Paul. 
Myself  I  deem  not  worthy,  and  none  else 
Will  deem  me.     I,  if  on  this  voyage  then 
I  venture,  fear  it  will  in  folly  end." 

(Inf.  i\.  3I-35-) 

But  here,  again,  the  characteristic  and  indomit- 
able courage  of  the  great  soul  comes  to  rebuke 
him.  He  puts  the  words  into  the  lips  of  Virgil, 
but  as  we  read  them  we  know  that  it  is  truly 
Dante's  soul  which  speaks  : 

"  Thy  soul  is  by  vile  fear  assail'd,  which  oft 
So  overcasts  a  man,  that  he  recoils 
From  noblest  resolution,  like  a  beast 
At  some  false  semblance  in  the  twilight  gloom." 

(Inf.  ii.  46-49-) 

Deeply  Dante  felt  the  danger  of  this  weakness, 
and,  mournfully  as  he  enumerated  the  causes 
which  brought  trouble  upon  Italy,  he  placed  this 
cowardly  spirit — this  vi/ta  d'ammo,  doe  pusillanimitk 
— among  the  moral  and  intellectual  weaknesses  of 
his  countrymen  (Convito,  bk.  i.  ch.  xi.  10). 


24      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Dante  does  not  blame  the  fear  :  he  blames  the 
weakness  which  yields  to  the  fear  :  the  fear  is 
the  result  of  sensitiveness,  a  quality  which  has 
its  value,  but  which  needs  to  be  kept  under 
control  by  some  higher  impulse  of  the  soul.  And 
this  leads  me  to  speak  of  Dante's  sensitiveness 
of  disposition.  Constantly  we  meet  with  indica- 
tions of  this  sensitiveness.  He  acknowledges  in 
set  terms  his  own  quick  susceptibleness  to  the 
influence  of  environment. 

"  Io,  che  pur  di  mia  natura 
Trasmutabile  son  per  tutte  guise  !  " 

(Par.  v.  98,  99.) 

So  susceptible  is  he,  that  he  feels  what  he 
describes,  and  feels  at  the  moment  just  what  he 
would  feel  were  the  imagined  fact  a  true  one  : 
the  imaginary  fact  calls  up  identically  the  same 
feelings  as  the  real  fact.  This  invests  the 
narrative  with  naturalness. 

This  sensitiveness  shows  itself  in  his  keenly 
sympathetic  response  to  Nature.  There  are  some 
critics  who  write  as  though  Nature  poetry  were 
an  invention  of  the  romantic  school.  We  may 
all  welcome  the  love  of  Nature  which  breathed  in 
Burns,  Shelley,  Keats,  and  Wordsworth  ;  but  we 
may  recall  poets  of  an  earlier  age  whose  souls 
were  filled  with  the  joy  which  earth  and  sky  and 


THE  MAN  25 

tree  and  flood  and  flower  can  evoke.  The  Hebrew 
was  a  Nature  poet  when  he  said,  "  The  river  of 
God  is  full  of  water "  ;  when  he  described  the 
kindly  act  of  providence,  "Thou  sendest  rain 
into  the  valleys  thereof  ;  Thou  makest  it  soft 
with  the  drops  of  rain  :  the  hills  rejoice  on  every 
side  :  the  valleys  stand  so  thick  with  corn  that 
they  laugh  and  sing."  The  reader  of  the  Psalms 
will  recall  many  other  examples,  and  he  must  be 
dead  to  Nature's  appeal  who  does  not  feel  the 
exquisite  and  varying  beauty  of  the  great  Nature 
hymn  which  is  numbered  104  in  our  version  of 
the  Psalms.  We  owe  much  to  the  romantic 
school,  but  the  hearts  of  poets  had  responded  to 
Nature  long  before  Cowper.  Indeed,  may  we  not 
say  that  this  responsiveness  to  Nature  marks  all 
the  greater  poets  ?  It  certainly  marks  Dante 
Alighieri.  We  have  seen  with  what  tender  feel- 
ing he  pictures  the  tiny  flowers  smitten  by  the 
night's  frost,  and  with  what  a  joyous  sympathy 
he  marks  them  raising  their  heads,  restored  to 
living  beauty  by  the  genial  beams  of  the  sun. 
We  have  noted  the  way  in  which  season  and  hour 
seem  responsive  to  his  mood.  For  example,  at 
the  moment  when  he  is  about  to  commence  his 
wondrous  journey  to  the  underworld,  he  pictures 
the  earthly  conditions  as  those  calculated  to  awaken 
apprehension  in  one  to  whom  Nature  strongly 


26      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

appealed.  He  enters  upon  this  arduous  adven- 
ture at  an  hour  when  all  things  around  him 
were  pleading  for  rest  and  quiet.  Night  was  at 
hand,  and  evening  was  whispering  her  tale  of  a 
well-deserved  interval  of  peace  ;  all  Nature  was 
sinking  to  slumber,  and  this  enterprise  along  un- 
trodden ways  seemed  to  set  him  as  a  lonely  alien 
upon  the  earth  when  all  other  creatures  were 
claiming  their  repose  : 

"  Now  did  God's  day  grow  dim, 

And  brown  the  shadowed  air, 
And  o'er  the  twilight's  rim 
The  happy  beasts  repair 
To  their  sweet  rest — while  I, 

Left  sunless  and  alone 
To  meet  an  untold  agony, 
Stept  into  shades  unknown." 

(Inf.  ii.  1-4.) 

He  feels  the  step  into  the  unknown,  and  the 
thought  of  the  oncoming  night  heightens  his 
emotion. 

The  appeal  of  the  evening  hour  weaves  a 
powerful  spell  over  the  poet's  heart.  We  meet 
the  acknowledgment  of  its  potent  spell  in  the 
Purgatorio,  as  we  meet  it  here  in  the  Inferno  : 

"  Now  came  the  yearning  hour 
When  on  the  lonely  sea 


THE  MAN  27 

Men  feel  the  farewell  power 
And  fain  at  home  would  be  ; 

When  love  fresh  weaves  her  spell 
As  the  lights  melt  away. 

And  o'er  the  eve  a  bell 
Tolls  for  the  dying  day." 

(Purg.  viii.  1-6.) 

And  as  to  sweet  seasons,  so  to  sweet  sounds 
also  the  poet's  heart  responds.  He  breaks  his 
story  to  tell  us  how  when  he  met  Casella, 
whose  skill  in  music  had  power  to  assuage 
all  his  cares  (Purg.  ii.  103),  he  wooed  him  again 
to  sing  : 

"Met  in  the  milder  shades  of  Purgatory." 

And  once  again,  when  one  sang  the  compline 
hymn,  Dante  tells  how  all  his  sense  in  ravishment 
was  lost : 

"  Che  fece  me  a  me  uscir  di  mente." 

(Purg.  viii.  15.) 

But  the  sensitiveness  which  the  poet  reveals  is 
not  responsive  only  to  the  appeals  of  sight  and 
sound.  It  is  a  sensitiveness  of  a  yet  nobler  kind 
— a  sensitiveness  which  feels  keenly  for  others. 
Thus  he  tells  us  that  when  he  saw  in  Purgatory 
those  whose  eyes  were  fast  sewn  with  wire — 
it  seemed  to  him  an  outrage  to  look  upon 


28      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

those  thus  humiliated  and  who  could  not  return 
his  gaze  : 

"  A  me  pareva  andando  fare  oltraggio, 
Veggendo  altrui,  non  essendo  veduto  : 
Perch'  io  mi  volsi."          (Purg.  xiii.  73-75.) 

(tc  To  gaze  then  seemed  to  me 

An  outrage  e'en  that  burned. 
From  these  who  could  not  see 
Therefore  away  I  turned.") 

Exactly  in  the  same  spirit,  which  cannot  endure 
to  take  advantage  of  a  superior  position  or  by 
thoughtlessness  to  add  one  pang  to  those  who 
suffer,  Dante  meets  in  the  Inferno  the  shade  of 
his  former  mentor,  Brunetto  Latini :  the  fiery  way 
forbids  him  to  descend  to  the  burning  ground 
whereon  Brunetto  walks  :  he  must  keep  to  the 
raised  and  safe  causeway,  yet  he  will  not  look 
down  upon  the  parched  and  fire-smirched  face  of 
his  friend  :  he  will  walk  beside  him  with  averted 
gaze  and  reverent  head  : 

"  Io  non  osava  scender  della  strada 

Per  andar  par  di  lui  :   ma  il  capo  chino 
Tenea,  come  uom  che  reverente  vada." 

(Inf.  xv.  43-45-) 
("  To  walk  with  him  below 

I  dared  not  to  descend  ; 
Therefore  with  head  bent  low 
I  held  him  reverend.") 


THE  MAN  29 

In  harmony  with  such  high  sensitiveness,  he 
describes  sensations  which  are  indicative  of  certain 
nervous  conditions.  He  knows  moments  when 
he  longs  to  relieve  himself  by  speech,  but  fears 
to  do  so  lest  he  should  offend  his  guide  : 

"  Allor  con  gli  occhi  vergognosi  e  bassi, 
Temendo  no  '1  mio  dir  gli  fusse  grave, 
Infino  al  fiume  di  parlar  mi  trassi." 

(Inf.  iii.  79-81.) 

("  With  eyes  shame-cast  and  low, 

Fearing  my  silly  speech, 
All  silent  did  I  go 

Till  we  the  stream  did  reach.") 

He  knows  also  the  moments  when  sheer  weak- 
ness makes  men  talkative  : 

"  Parlando  andava  per  non  parer  fievole." 

(Inf.  xxiv.  64.) 

("  Talking  I  went  to  veil  fatigue.") 

He  has  insight  enough  to  realise  that  quick 
sensitiveness  is  morally  useful  :  it  brings  pain, 
but  it  carries  its  healing  with  it :  to  feel  swift 
shame  mount  to  the  brow  is  at  least  to  be  alive  to 
one's  own  weakness. 

When  Virgil  rebukes  him  for  pausing  to  listen 
to  the  vulgar  wrangle  between  two  abject  souls — 
Sinon  and  Adamo  of  Brescia — a  burning  blush 


30      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

suffused  his  face  and  a  poignant  shame  filled  his 
whole  soul.  It  is  well,  Virgil  assures  him  :  his 
confusion  is  a  healthy  sign  :  the  very  sensitive- 
ness is  a  wholesome  self-rebuke  :  it  carries  healing 
with  it : 

"  Una  medesma  lingua  pria  mi  morse, 

S\  che  mi  tinse  1'  una  e  F  altra  guancia, 
E  poi  la  medicina  mi  riporse. 
Cosl  od'  io  che  soleva  la  lancia 

D'  Achille  e  del  suo  padre  esser  cagione 
Prima  di  trista  e  poi  di  buona  mancia." 

(Inf.  xxxi.  1-6.) 

("  The  very  tongue,  whose  keen  reproof  before 
Had  wounded  me,  that  either  cheek  was  stain'd, 
Now  minister'd  my  cure.     So  have  I  heard, 
Achilles'  and  his  father's  javelin  caused 
Pain  first,  and  then  the  boon  of  health  restored.") 

He  can  honour  this  ready  sensitiveness  ;  it  is 
the  sign  of  a  worthy  and  lively  moral  sense. 
Virgil's  conscience  he  describes  as  "dignitosa 
coscienza  e  netta  "  ;  clear  and  upright,  because  it 
feels  a  small  fault  like  a  grievous  wound  : 

c<  Come  t'  e  picciol  fallo  amaro  morso  !  " 

(Purg.  iii.  8,  9.) 

Allied  with  this  sensitiveness  we  may  place  his 
almost  intolerant  dislike  of  ungraceful  or  undigni- 
fied deportment.  He  commends  what  is  calm 


THE  MAN  31 

and  self-possessed  :  he  deprecates  the  haste  which 
mars  all  decency  of  act  : 

"  La  fretta, 
Che  P  onestade  ad  ogni  atto  dismaga." 

(Purg.  Hi.  n.) 

The  great  ones  are  always  grave  and  deliberate  : 
their  very  speech  bears  this  characteristic  grace  : 

"  Parlavan  rado,  con  voce  soavi." 

(Inf.  iv.  114.) 

Their  eyes  had  none  of  the  irritability  of  impatient 
littleness  of  soul  :  their  aspect  was  one  of  weighty 
authority  : 

"Genti  v'  eran  con  occhi  tardi  e  gravi, 
Di  grande  autoritk  ne'  lor  sembianti." 

(Inf.  iv.  112.) 

Similarly  Sordello,  whose  attitude  is  like  that 
of  a  couchant  lion,  moves  his  eyes  with  a  slow 
majesty  (Purg.  vi.  63). 

Everywhere  the  great  and  good  in  the  poem 
are  distinguished  by  graciousness  and  quiet  dignity. 
The  voices  of  the  saints  in  Paradise  possess 
sweetness  and  gravity.  Solomon  speaks  in  sober 
tones  (Par.  xiv.  35)  :  Cacciaguida's  voice  is 
sweet  and  soft  (Par.  xvi.  32).  In  contrast  the 
voices  in  the  evil  realm  are  harsh,  discordant, 
inhuman  :  the  voices  of  pain  and  anger,  re- 


32      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

morse  and  despair,  or  else  of  deadly  and  impotent 
hate  : 

"  Quivi  sospiri,  pianti  ed  alti  guai 
Risonavan  per  1'  aer  senza  stelle, 
Perch'  io  al  cominciar  ne  lagrimai. 
Diverse  lingue,  orribili  favelle, 
Parole  di  dolore,  accenti  d'  ira, 
Voci  alte  e  fioche,  e  suon  di  man  con  elle." 

(Inf.  Hi.  22-2 7.) 

("  Here  sighs,  with  lamentations  and  loud  moans. 
Resounded  through  the  air  pierced  by  no  star, 
That  e'en  I  wept  at  entering.     Various  tongues, 
Horrible  languages,  outcries  of  woe, 
Accents  of  anger,  voices  deep  and  hoarse, 
With  hands  together  smote.") 

The  Inferno  is  a  region  robbed  of  light  and 
music :  harsh  and  hideous  cries  resound.  In 
silence  Minos  passes  dread  sentence  (Inf.  v.  4-6), 
Cerberus  barks  as  a  dog  baying  for  his  food 
(Inf.  vi.  13-27),  Pluto  shrieks  at  the  passer-by 
with  a  hard  and  grating  voice  (Inf.  vii.  1—3).  The 
very  way  in  which  the  poet  pictures  the  harsh 
discords  of  this  lower  world  makes  us  feel  how  he 
rejoiced  in  all  that  was  sweet  and  gracious,  sane 
and  dignified. 

Ruskin,  after  his  manner,  remarks  that  Dante 
was  a  bad  climber  :  according  to  him,  Dante's  idea 
of  Alpine  travel  is  only  that  of  difficult  walking  : 


THE  MAN  33 

he  disliked  steep  and  rugged  paths.  But  was  it 
the  difficulty  which  Dante  disliked  ?  Was  it  not 
rather  that  he  had  a  proud  distaste  for  ungraceful 
haste,  and  the  necessity  which  compelled  some 
undignified  attitude  ?  More  than  the  arduous 
road,  he  hated  all  that  caused  unseemliness  of  pose 
or  bearing.  The  rhythm  of  his  nature  demanded 
grace  and  stately  movement ;  haste  which  obliged 
him  to  hurry  along  steep  and  rocky  paths  overthrew 
all  dignity  of  deportment.  It  was  not  physical 
fatigue  which  he  resented,  but  unworthy  disturb- 
ance of  the  harmony  and  grace  of  life. 

We  have  dwelt  on  the  fastidious  sensitiveness 
of  Dante's  character,  but  we  must  not  dwell  on  it 
longer  lest  we  conjure  up  a  false  or  one-sided 
picture  of  him.  In  contrast  to  this  sensitiveness 
of  spirit,  we  may  place  his  apparent  and  perhaps 
real  sternness  of  character.  This  man  of  such 
exquisite  feeling,  such  warm  delight  in  all  that 
is  sweet  and  graceful,  has  another  side  to  his 
character.  He  is  level-minded  in  his  demand 
for  rectitude.  When  righteousness  is  at  stake, 
neither  pity  nor  partiality  must  be  allowed  to 
sway  the  judgment. 

This  does  not  mean  that  he  banishes  pity 
from  his  heart  (Inf.  xx.  25-31).  On  the  con- 
trary, the  pangs  of  pity,  which  his  sensitive  soul 
feels  for  the  forlorn  and  tormented  spirits  in 

3 


34      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

the  Inferno^  serve  to  show  how  intense  is  his 
conviction  that  nothing  can  set  aside  the  laws 
of  eternal  right.  Francesca  will  arouse  in  him 
infinite  and  overwhelming  compassion,  but  Fran- 
cesca must  face  the  withering  tempest  which  her 
fault  has  aroused  against  her.  Mr  J.  A.  Symonds 
expressed  his  wonder  that  Dante  should  be  so 
hard  and  pitiless  in  his  judgment  upon  the 
weaklings  who  hesitated  to  identify  themselves 
on  either  side  in  the  great  battle  of  all  time. 
Others  may  have  felt  that  the  harsh  contempt 
expressed  by  the  poet  was  out  of  proportion  to 
a  fault  which  might  be  called  weakness,  but 
never  vice  ;  but  to  Dante  the  cowardice  which 
refused  the  call  of  high  duty  or  noble  ideal  was 
sin  almost  beyond  forgiveness  :  it  revealed  a 
spirit  dead  to  righteousness  through  the  paralysing 
influence  of  self-interest. 

In  modern  days  we  understand  the  hesitation 
of  the  thoughtful  who  are  too  honest  in  mind 
to  identify  themselves  with  any  of  the  clamouring 
parties  which  struggle  for  mastery  ;  but  hesitation 
of  this  class  had  small  place  in  mediaeval  times 
and  was  far  from  Dante's  thought.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  trumpet  call  of  righteousness 
summoning  men  to  war  against  wrong.  In  that 
war  he  could  recognise  no  discharge  :  to  shirk 
was  to  proclaim  oneself  unworthy  of  the  noble 


THE  MAN  35 

gift  of  life.  His  scorn  for  these  self-interested 
souls  was  akin  to  his  conviction  of  the  imperi- 
ously righteous  order  under  which  men  lived. 
We  must  reckon  with  this  unswerving  faith  in 
right  in  estimating  the  character  of  Dante. 

What,  then,  is  the  resultant  portrait  of  Dante 
left  on  our  minds  ?  As  I  see  him,  he  is  sensitive, 
fastidious,  hating  what  was  slovenly  and  un- 
graceful ;  demanding  even  in  little  things  a 
correctness  in  detail  (witness  his  handwriting, 
described  as  fine  and  careful)  ;  taking  a  genuine 
delight  in  things  beautiful,  pausing  long  to  observe 
them  ;  rejoicing  in  music,  and  therefore  spend- 
ing long  hours  in  the  shop  of  Bellacqua  ;  finding 
pleasure  in  art,  and  so  on  terms  of  friendship 
with  Giotto  ;  watching  the  slow  growth  of  the 
tower  of  the  Cathedral,  as  it  grew  "like  a  tall 
lily  pointing  heavenward  "  ;  finding  relaxation  in 
sketching,  perhaps  an  angel  ;  tender-hearted  to  the 
weak,  passing  with  a  gentle  smile  children  at 
their  play  ;  impatient  of  fools,  yet  slow  of  speech 
because  strong  in  self-restraint  :  speaking  clearly 
and  incisively  where  speech  was  needful  ;  easily 
moved  by  the  sorrows  of  others,  and,  while 
keeping  a  gravely  placid  countenance,  feeling 
with  exquisite  inward  torture  some  tragedy  of 
life.  We  can  picture  him  studying  long  and 
carefully  ;  reading  omnivorously  and  appropriat- 


36      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

ing  with  ready  memory  and  judicious  skill  all  that 
seemed  to  bear  the  mark  of  truth.  He  was  often 
stern  to  men,  but  courteous,  even  gaily  courteous, 
to  women  ;  proud  with  the  pride  that  will  do  no 
discourtesy  to  self  through  lack  of  reticence  ; 
proud,  too,  with  a  patience  which  bears  much 
which  shallow  conceit  might  resent.  He  was 
orthodox  according  to  the  orthodoxy  of  his  day, 
because  too  sane  to  fling  overboard  what  was  use- 
ful and  might  be  true  ;  reverent  therefore  towards 
the  Church,  but  so  full  of  great  ideals  that  he 
could  utter  the  strongest  rebukes  against  those 
who  prostituted  her  authority  ;  a  lover  of  truth, 
he  would  discard  teaching  which  sinned  against 
its  canons  ;  possessing  a  heart  susceptible  and 
responsive  to  the  appeal  of  beauty,  and  still  more 
of  kindliness,  and  therefore  able  to  delight  in  life 
and  life's  pleasures  ;  yet  shy  and  sensitive,  and  at 
times  painfully  self-restrained,  he  is,  by  conse- 
quence, a  man  by  whom  the  vicissitudes  of  life 
will  be  keenly  felt  ;  believing  in  good,  he  will  find 
it  hard  should  he  meet  with  falseness  in  men  ; 
giving  his  whole  heart,  though  with  a  proud 
reserve,  he  will  feel  acutely  should  his  affection 
be  wounded  or  his  confidence  betrayed.  He  is  a 
man  of  such  a  disposition  that  we  should  hope 
for  him  days  of  brightness  and  happiness,  of 
faithful  friends  and  loving  comrades,  sunshine 


THE  MAN  37 

that  would  melt  away  all  reserve,  assured  suc- 
cess that  would  make  him  lay  aside  his  defensive 
pride.  A  man,  tender-hearted,  sensitive,  fastidious, 
reserved,  proud,  ambitious,  unselfish  in  aim 
though  ambitious  in  desire,  he  is  to  go  out  into 
the  world  and  meet  such  fortune  as  may  come 
to  him  and  such  experience  as  will  work  upon  his 
character  for  good  or  evil. 

There  is  in  such  a  soul  infinite  capacity  for 
gladness  and  for  sorrow  !  To  what  heights  of 
joy  may  he  not  attain  ?  What  tortures  of  soul 
may  he  not  endure  ? 

Such  is  Dante.  The  world  waits,  ready  to 
open  her  doors  to  him.  What  love  will  minister 
to  him  ?  What  fortune  will  crown  him  ?  What 
will  life  do  for  him  ?  What  message  will  life  put 
into  his  lips  to  deliver  to  his  fellow-men  ? 


LECTURE  II 

THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE 
(LIFE  LOST) 

THE  life  of  Dante  falls  into  three  periods — the 
period  of  youthful  dream,  the  period  of  the  dream 
of  his  manhood,  and  the  period  of  the  divine 
vision.  These  three  periods  are  like  three  acts 
of  a  drama,  the  drama  of  Dante's  life.  The  first 
two  acts  close  with  the  vanishing  of  a  dream  ;  the 
third  act  brings  the  vision  which  never  fades. 
The  first  act  ends  with  the  death  of  Beatrice,  the 
second  with  the  exile  from  Florence.  Like  the 
life  of  the  patriarch,  the  earlier  periods  are  marked 
by  dreams  :  and  Dante's  life,  like  Jacob's,  is  a 
drama  told  in  three  acts,  and  in  both  cases  the 
drama  closes  in  exile. 

It  is  this  drama  of  Dante's  life  which  we  have 
to  follow. 

The  first  act  opens  with  the  life  in  his  early 
home.  The  first  influence  in  normal  human  life  is 

that  of  love.     We  do  not  understand  this  in  our 

38 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE         39 

early  years.  Later,  as  we  look  back,  we  begin  to 
perceive  the  sanctities  of  affection  which  surrounded 
our  infancy.  Later  life  often  drives  us  to  prac- 
tical or  philosophic  views  of  existence.  Hard 
facts  meet  us.  The  need  of  some  rationalised 
harmony  presses  upon  our  minds,  and  we  are 
tempted  to  attach  exaggerated  importance  to 
logical  or  practical  wisdom  ;  but  the  early  in- 
fluences have  played  their  part,  they  have  been 
formative  powers  in  our  development.  In  the 
busy  conflict  of  toil  and  thought  we  may  forget, 
but  in  the  hour  of  emergency  or  of  enforced 
idleness,  when  retrospect  wields  her  enchanted 
wand,  we  feel  and  we  know  that  love  has  been 
in  our  lives — a  real  and  an  unforgetable  power. 

Was  it  not  so  with  Dante  ?  Though  reason 
asserted  her  sway,  though  he  was  claimed  by 
sorrow  as  her  child,  and  grief  and  disappointment 
wrote  the  marks  of  suffering  upon  his  face,  his 
heart  cherished  as  an  inexhaustible  treasure  the 
memory  of  love. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  to  suppose  that  his  early 
home  life  lacked  the  affection  which  becomes  so 
rich  and  sweet  a  memory  as  years  increase.  The 
case  is  not  proven  ;  and  some  facts  may  be  urged 
in  support  of  an  opposite  conclusion.  We  are 
dealing  admittedly  with  a  matter  upon  which  our 
knowledge  is  incomplete,  and  each  man's  views 


40      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

are  probably  coloured  by  his  partialities,  but  there 
does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  adequate  ground 
for  picturing  the  child  life  of  Dante  Alighieri  in 

^sombre  hues. 

/  Let  us  see  how  the  matter  stands.  Dante  was 
/  born  in  1265.  He  lost  both  father  and  mother 
before  he  reached  manhood.  His  mother,  Bella 
by  name,  died  when  Dante  was  about  twelve  years 
of  age.  For  the  first  twelve  years  of  his  life 
Dante  knew  both  a  mother's  and  a  father's  care. 
The  five  or  six  years  which  followed  his  mother's 
death — the  years  which  brought  him  to  the 
threshold  of  adolescence — were  years  in  which 
things  had  changed  :  his  father  had  married  again, 
and  other  children's  voices  were  heard  in  the 
home  ;  but,  if  conjecture  be  true,  these  voices 
were  not  unwelcome  to  Dante  :  at  any  rate,  to  one 
of  his  half-sisters  he  became  strongly  attached. 

Beyond  these  scanty  materials  we  have  little  to 
tell  us  the  story  of  Dante's  early  life.  We  can 
lay  our  hands  on  none  of  those  domestic  records, 
family  letters  or  family  diaries,  which,  like 
windows,  give  us  a  clear  though  passing  glimpse 
into  the  home.  Here  inference  has  been  busy, 
and  there  have  been  writers  who  have  read  the 
silence  of  history  as  equivalent  to  condemnation. 
It  has  been  assumed  that  where  little  is  said, 
much  trouble  and  some  dislike  may  be  inferred. 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          41 

Because  Dante  does  not  speak  or  write  much  of 
his  father  or  his  mother,  it  has  been  imagined  that 
little  love  existed  between  them.  This  appears 
to  me  a  criticism  not  only  unjust,  but  lacking 
in  sympathetic  perception.  If  little  cares  speak 
and  great  ones  are  dumb,  it  may  also  chance  that 
shallow  love  chatters  and  deep  love  is  silent. 
Men  do  not  always  give  prominence  to  their 
strongest  affections  :  a  sense  of  sacredness  belongs 
to  such  affections,  they  impose  a  loyal  reticence. 
The  love  which  speaks  may  be  silver  :  but  the 
love  which  is  silent  may  be  golden.  Do  we 
admire  Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti  more  when  he 
buried  his  poems  in  his  wife's  grave  or  when  he 
dragged  them  out  to  publish  them  ?  Must  we 
suppose  that  Cowper  loved  his  mother  more  than 
other  poets  because  he  paid  her  the  tribute  of  his 
immortal  eulogy  ?  Men  love  Cowper's  poem 
because  it  expresses  what  they  themselves  have 
felt  :  the  popularity  of  those  poems  which  pro- 
claim the  sorrows  of  an  aching  or  bereaved  heart 
is  the  witness  how  many  silent  folk  there  are  who, 
being  deprived  of  the  gift  of  utterance,  welcome 
verses  which  put  into  beautiful  or  noble  language 
the  thoughts  and  emotions'which  thousands  feel 
and  find  no  way  to  express.  Many,  moreover,  of 
those  gifted  with  power  of  utterance  shrink  from 
putting  into  the  fierce  light  of  publicity  the 


42      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

expressions  of  their  deepest  feelings.  No  infer- 
ence of  a  lack  of  affection  is  justifiable  from  the 
mere  fact  of  silence. 

Dante  by  temperament  was  reticent.  He  ap- 
pears to  me  like  one  brought  up  in  a  home  in 
which  sentimental  affection  did  not  gush  out  in 
speech,  but  in  which  genuine  love,  nevertheless, 
was  forcibly  felt.  The  family  was  comparatively 
poor  :  they  could  not  meet  their  rich  neighbours 
on  equal  terms  ;  but  they  had  some  pride  of 
lineage  :  they  cherished  the  memory  of  their 
ancestors,  and  they  often  spoke  of  one  who  had 
fought  and  fallen  amongst  the  crusaders.  Cynics 
might  perhaps  indulge  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  he 
was  probably  the  only  ancestor  of  marked  dis- 
tinction of  whom  the  family  could  boast.  But 
families  which  cherish  this  pride  of  ancestry, 
possess  also  corresponding  ideals  of  conduct  and 
achievement.  We  know  that  such  ideals  grew  in 
Dante's  mind.  "  Loyalty,  courtesy,  love,  courage, 
self-control,"  he  says,  "are  necessary  to  this  age/' 
With  these  ideals,  reverence  for  womanhood  held 
a  place.  The  modest  and  noble  man  could  never 
speak  in  such  a  manner  that  to  a  woman  his  words 
should  be  such  as  she  should  not  hear.  The 
picture,  therefore,  which  rises  to  our  minds  is  of 
a  home  in  which  chivalrous  ideals  are  held  in  high 
esteem,  and  in  which  tales  of  ancient  valour  and 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          43 

high  hopes  of  future  glory  find  a  place.  Such  a 
home  is  not  usually  a  loveless  one. 

Again,  the  home  was  one  in  which  dreams  of 
greatness  grew.  We  are  told  that  before  his  birth 
his  mother  had  a  dream  which  betokened  his 
future  greatness.  She  dreamed  that  her  offspring 
was  a  peacock.  The  story  may  be  apocryphal, 
but  stories  of  this  kind  do  not  circulate  round 
an  unwelcome  child  or  arise  in  the  atmosphere 
of  an  unhappy  home  :  the  fact  that  such  a  tale 
became  current  does  not  support  the  conjecture 
of  home  unhappiness.  Again,  Dante  has  a  strong 
confidence  in  his  destiny  :  he  takes  keen  interest 
in  the  star  under  which  he  was  born  : 

"  O  glorious  stars,  O  light  impregnated 

With  mighty  virtue,  from  which  I  acknowledge 
All  of  my  genius,  whatsoe'er  it  be, 
With  you  was  born,  and  hid  himself  with  you,    . 
He  who  is  father  of  all  mortal  life, 
When  first  I  tasted  of  the  Tuscan  air." 

(Par.  xxii.  112-117.) 

Are  we  not  in  the  presence  of  a  man  who  early 
believed  that  he  was  born  for  high  things  ?  May 
we  not  conjecture  that  some  relics  of  a  mother's 
hope  and  pride  are  preserved  to  us  in  the  legend 
and  in  the  strong  faith  of  the  poet  in  his  own 
destiny  ?  Perhaps,  after  all,  visions  and  hopes  full 
of  fair  augury  met  the  child  who  was  ushered  into 


44      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

life  in  the  month  of  May  when  earth  was  radiant 
with  Nature's  comeliest  beauties  and  breathed  all 
the  sweet  joyousness  of  the  flowery  spring. 

If  so,  more  sweet  and  joyous  than  spring  was 
the  mother's  face  which  hung  over  the  cradle  as 
May  ebbed  and  June  broke  with  richer  leafage 
over  Florence.  I  cannot  therefore  share  the  views 
of  those  who  think  that  home  love  in  the  poet's 
childhood  was  scant.  It  is  true  that  Dante  tells 
no  touching  story  of  his  infant  life,  and  only  in 
one  casual  line  does  he  refer  directly  to  his  mother. 
There  is  a  studied  reserve  in  his  writings  :  he 
does  not  darken  sanctities  with  song.  But  do  we 
not  catch  here  and  there  revelations  more  telling, 
because  indirect,  of  the  deep,  tender  emotion 
which  home-scenes  and  home-thoughts  awakened 
in  his  breast  ?  Like  fossils  in  the  rock,  touching 
remembrances  of  childhood's  experiences  are  found 
imbedded  in  the  immortal  poem.  Does  no 
memory  lie  behind  the  picture  he  draws  of 
Florentine  homes  in  the  days  of  peace  ? 

"  L'  una  vegghiava  a  studio  della  culla, 
E  consolando  usava  P  idioma 
Che  prima  i  padri  e  le  madri  trastulla."  1 

(Par.  xv.  121-123.) 

1  "  One  o'er  the  cradle  kept  her  studious  watch, 
And  in  her  lullaby  the  language  used 
That  first  delights  the  fathers  and  the  mothers." 

LONGFELLOW'S  Translation. 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          45 

And  when  he  describes  the  mother  relating 
legends  of  famous  cities,  is  he  not  recalling  some 
early  memory  ? 

Did  no  warm  throb  of  early  life  inspire  his 
mind  when  he  pictured  Virgil's  welcome  embrace, 
as  told  in  the  eighth,  canto  of  the  Inferno  ?  As 
Virgil  expressed  his  approval  of  Dante's  scorn  of 
Filippo  Argenti,  do  we  not  feel  that  the  whole 
scene  is  filled  with  the  mingled  pride  and  tender- 
ness with  which  a  mother  embraces  the  child 
whose  action  has  satisfied  her  hopes  ? 

"  Lo  collo  poi  con  le  braccia  mi  cinse, 

Baciommi  il  volto,  e  disse  :   Alma  sdegnosa  !  " 

This,  too,  is  the  very  passage  in  which  Dante 
refers  to  his  mother,  for  he  represents  Virgil  as 
calling  her  blessed  : 

"  Benedetta  colei  che  in  te  s'  incinse." 

(Inf.  viii.  43-45.) 

Would  it  be  venturing  too  hazardous  a  con- 
jecture, then,  if  we  pictured  to  ourselves  Dante  as 
a  yellow-haired  child,  sitting  by  his  mother's  knee 
as  she  plied  the  distaff  and  drew  out  the  thread, 
his  face  all  aglow  with  attentive  interest  as  he 
heard  the  tale  of  some  deed  of  heroism  wrought 
on  the  fields  of  Troy,  or  in  Fiesole  or  Rome  ? 

Was  it  not  a  home  picture  which  he  drew  when 
he  wrote — 


46      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

"  Another,  drawing  tresses  from  her  distaff, 
Told  o'er  among  her  family  the  tales 
Of  Trojans  and  of  Fiesole  and  Rome." 

(Par.  xv.  124-126.) 

But  whatever  part  love  may  have  played  in  the 
early  life  of  Dante  has  been  flung  into  the  back- 
ground by  the  intense  and  varied  interest  which 
attaches  to  the  name  of  Beatrice.  In  her  Dante 
found  that  transcendent  influence  which  for  weal 
or  woe  woman  exercises  over  man.  A  recent 
German  writer  has  told  us  that  it  is  impossible  to 
mention  Dante  to  any  educated  German  without 
calling  up  the  thought  of  Goethe  ;  for  in  Faust  as 
well  as  in  the  Divina  Commedia  we  meet  the  "  Ewig 
Weibliche  "  (Eternal  Womanly)  power  which  leads 
man  on.  Both  poets  have  paid  their  tribute  to 
woman's  influence  ;  but  Dante's  work  is  a  tribute 
to  Beatrice  which  soars  far  beyond  the  level  reached 
in  Faust. 

Beatrice  is  in  Dante's  life  something  which  poor 
Marguerite  could  not  be  in  the  life  of  Faust. 
To  Beatrice  belongs  the  magic  which  transfigures 
the  poet  himself.  No  such  transfiguration  as  we 
meet  in  the  Divine  Comedy  could  find  place  in  any 
version  of  the  Faustus  legend.  It  is  a  transfigura- 
tion of  eternal  significance. 

To  understand  what  Beatrice  was  to  Dante,  we 
must  enter  into  the  temper  of  the  time.  The 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          47 

position  which  woman  occupies  in  public  esteem 
at  any  particular  epoch  of  history  may  be  taken 
as  a  measure  of  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Human 
progress  is  not  like  a  straight  line  leading  upwards, 
it  is  rather  an  undulating  line,  like  those  which 
mark  the  progress  of  some  commercial  enter- 
prise, on  which  are  marked  receding  as  well  as 
advancing  indications  of  fortune.  Just  as  in  the 
story  of  national  trade  the  value  attached  to  some 
one  commodity  is  often  taken  as  a  gauge  of  general 
prosperity,  so  the  regard  in  which  woman  is  held 
may  be  taken  to  mark  the  high  and  low  water- 
mark of  civilisation  and  progress.  Measured  in 
this  way,  we  have  to  admit  fluctuations  as  we  pass 
from  age  to  age,  and  indeed  from  nation  to  nation 
or  even  creed  to  creed. 

We,  who  were  brought  up  on  romances  in 
which  love  played  a  leading  part,  can  hardly 
understand  a  literature  in  which  woman's  in- 
fluence found  practically  no  place.  Yet  in  the 
literature  of  Greece  how  small  a  thing  is  woman  ! 
It  has  been  said  that  there  is  no  heroine  in  the 
Iliad.  True,  a  woman  was  at  the  bottom  of  the 
mischief,  but  there  is  no  love-story  in  the  poem. 
The  heroes  pass  before  us — Achilles,  Agamemnon, 
Hector,  Patroclus,  and  a  host  more, — but  love 
does  not  play  a  part  in  their  lives.  Briseis  may 
be  contended  for,  but  who  is  in  love  with  her  ? 


48      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

A  young  and  promising  scholar  said  that  there 
was  indeed  a  love-story  in  the  Iliad^  but  it  was 
the  story  of  love  between  two  men  :  no  woman 
brought  Achilles  from  his  tent.  It  was  when  he 
heard  that  Patroclus  had  fallen  that  the  hero 
sprang  to  arms.  Love,  romantic  love,  as  we 
know  it — for  example,  the  love  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  or  Lorenzo  and  Jessica, — finds  no  place  in 
the  plays  of  ^Eschylus,  Sophocles,  or  Euripides. 

It  has  been  maintained  that  "  the  first  man  who 
had  the  courage  to  say  that  a  woman  is  worth 
loving, — was  Antimachus  of  Colophon."  *  Prior 
to  his  day,  the  idea  of  love — i.e.  of  the  beautiful 
romantic  love  of  which  later  literature  is  full — was 
unknown,  or  at  least  unrecognised  among  the 
poets.  "That  anyone  should  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  devote  erudition  and  elaboration  to  the 
praise  of  a  woman,  would  have  been  an  unheard- 
of  thing  in  early  Greece." 2  The  love  which 
holds  a  pre-eminence  in  the  early  classic  days  of 
Greece  is  love  between  man  and  man.  The  high, 
elevating  love  for  a  woman — the  pure,  unselfish 
devotion  which  we  associate  with  the  word 
"  romantic  " — had  no  place  among  her  greater 
poets.  This  does  not  mean  that  there  were  no 
portraits  of  noble  women  presented  in  the  glorious 

1  Women  in  Greek  Poetry,  by  E.  F.  M.  Benecke,  p.  2,  1896. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  70. 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          49 

days  of  Greece  ;  but  it  does  mean  that  the  idea 
of  a  chivalrous  reverence  for  womanhood,  apart 
from  the  comforts  which  her  presence  conferred, 
had  not  in  those  days  found  its  voice. 

With  the  growth  of  asceticism  there  came, 
according  to  Mr  Lecky,  a  fashion  of  thought  which 
lowered  the  status  and  dignity  of  womanhood. 
"  Woman  was  represented  as  the  door  of  hell,  as 
the  mother  of  all  human  ills.  .  .  .  Their  essentially 
subordinate  position  was  continually  maintained." l 
Canon  law  reflected  this  view,  and  it  was  for 
this  reason  that  Sir  Henry  Maine  held  that  the 
expositors  of  canon  law  had  done  injury  to 
civilisation.2 

With  the  romantic  movement,  womanhood 
once  more  was  given  a  high  place  in  the  thought 
of  man.  Poets  began  to  sing  the  praises  of 
women  :  their  beauty  was  no  longer  denounced 
as  a  danger  :  it  was  celebrated  in  song.  Devotion 
to  womanhood  became  fashionable  :  the  knight, 
wearing  his  lady's  favour,  went  proudly  into 
combat.  It  became  recognised  that  man  could 
draw  a  strong  and  inspiring  incentive  to  noble 
doing  and  self-mastery  in  life,  from  the  pure  and 
worshipful  affection  he  bore  to  the  woman  he 
reverenced. 

Here  we  betake  ourselves  into  that  realm  of 

1  European  Morals^  vol.  ii.  p.  338.        2  Ancient  Law^  p.  158. 

4 


50      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

love  which  was  so  dear  to  the  knighthood  and 
chivalry  of  the  times.  We  need  not  trace  the 
idea  of  love  as  it  was  conceived  by  the  Proven$al 
schools.  Among  them  no  doubt  there  was  a 
tendency  to  fall  to  the  level  of  intrigue  ;  in  the 
view  of  some  the  lover  was  the  man  faithful  in  un- 
faithfulness :  "  C'etait  la  fid£lite  dans  1'adultere." 1 
It  is  enough  for  us  to  realise  that  whatever  may 
have  been  the  moral  standard  of  the  Provenfal 
singers,  the  Florentine  school  rose  to  a  higher 
level,  and  founded  a  school  of  love  which  bore 
the  shield  of  a  lofty  purity.  The  love  of  the 
poets  became  pure,  almost  impersonal ;  its  object 
was  beauty,  or  womanhood  personified  in  an  ideal 
being.  The  notion  of  marriage  or  possession 
hardly  entered  their  thoughts  ;  the  mistress  whom 
they  praised  was  for  them  a  being — almost  a 
divinity — to  be  worshipped  on  bended  knee.2 

The  love  which  in  earlier  times  had  expressed 
itself  in  rough  and  rude  fashion,  became  delicate 
and  worshipful.  The  ideal  celebrated  is  not  that 
of  the  woman  free  in  her  favours  ;  it  is  that  of 
maiden  purity  and  Madonna-like  aloofness,  whose 
salutation  is  a  benediction. 

"  Beata  P  alma  che  questa  saluta." 

1  Dantt,  Beatrice  et  la  poesie  amoureuse,  R.  de  Gourmont, 
p.  29,  Paris,  1908. 

2  /#</.,  p.  Sir 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          51 

So  sang  Lapo  Gianni.  Her  smile  spreads  glad- 
ness :  a  sweet  virtue  goes  forth  from  her  :  her 
presence  banishes  vice  :  she  is  exalted  high  in 
the  poet's  thoughts.  It  is  the  canonisation  of 
womanhood  which  meets  us  :  she  is  something 
beyond  desire,  something  which  one  can  scarcely 
dare  to  love  ;  or,  if  love  at  all,  it  must  be  with  a 
love  which  rises  pure  and  fragrant  like  incense  to 
her  throne.  Love  itself  is  felt  to  be  an  exalted 
sentiment,  a  gift  divine  which  can  only  enter  into 
hearts  worthy  to  receive  it. 

Thus,  according  to  Lapo  degli  Uberti,  not  only 
is  the  lady  to  be  reverenced,  but  love  itself  is  a 
lofty  gift  which  comes  only  to  the  worthy : 

"  Gentil  Madonna,  la  vertu  d'  amore 
Che  per  grazia  discende 
In  core  humano,  sel  trova  gentile.  .  .  ."  x 

("Worthy  lady,  love's  dear  virtue 
Cometh  only  of  God's  grace  ; 
Entereth  the  human  heart, 

Which  provides  a  worthy  place.") 

The  spirit  of  such  words  is  far  removed  from 
that  of  wanton  intrigue.  Imagination  here  turns 
only  to  what  is  pure  and  lovely  and  of  good 
report.  It  is  closely  allied  to  the  mystic  tem- 
perament, which  was  making  its  way  among  the 
1  De  Gourmont,  p.  34. 


52      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

choicer  spirits  of  the  age.  It  presents  to  us  the 
ideal  woman  ;  but  its  origin  is  the  influence  of 
some  dear,  pure,  gentle  creature  whose  presence 
and  smile  awoke  to  consciousness  the  slumbering 
powers  of  the  heart.  In  the  poetical  celebration 
v  of  her  influence,  the  imagination  and  the  affections 
collaborated  and  wrought  a  portrait,  endowed  with 
perfections  unattainable.  The  likeness  is  idealised, 
but  it  is  not  a  fiction  :  there  is  flesh  and  blood 
behind  it :  a  true  human  charm  gave  it  birth  :  a 
little  reality  mingled  with  a  good  deal  of  dream, 
"  a  drop  of  elixir  in  a  glass  of  spring-water. " 

The  power  of  her  presence  and  its  effects  upon 
the  lover  are  described,  and  they  resemble  those 
which  Dante  describes  in  the  Vita  Nuova.  The 
salute  of  the  lady  awakens  a  deep  fear  in  the 
lover  :  his  face  changes  colour  :  he  trembles 
'  *"" before  her.  "As  the  leaf  trembles  before  every 
breeze,  so  do  I  tremble  at  her  presence,"  was  the 
description  given  by  Brunetto  Latini.  The  very 
beauty  of  the  beloved  one  caused  a  shiver  to 
pass  through  the  frame,  till  one  poet l  exclaimed 
that  the  man  who  knew  no  trembling  knew  no 

love  : 

u  Ch'  uomo  senza  temere 
Non  par  che  sia  amoroso 
Che  amar  senza  temer  non  si  convene." 

1  Rainieri  da  Palermo. 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          53 

("Who  feareth  not,  he  loveth  not, 

So  seemeth  it  to  me  ; 
Certes  the  love  that  lacketh  fear 
A  true  love  cannot  be.") 

Thus  love  which  began  with  a  vision  of  simple 
girlish  beauty  could  grow  into  a  noble  worship 
of  something  greater  and  fairer  than  earth  could 
claim.  Woman  became  the  inspiration  of  man,  — 
and  led  him  to  dreams  beyond  her  own  power 
to  realise  ;  but  ideal,  and  often  celestial,  as  were 
these  visions,  and  far  above  her  reach,  yet  from 
her  sweet  influence  they  sprang.  She,  who  cannot 
attain  perchance  to  the  heights  to  which  her  lover 
has  exalted  her,  may  rejoice  in  having  exalted  a 
human  heart  so  high. 

"  O  sacred  be  the  flesh  and  blood 
To  which  she  links  a  truth  divine." 

If  we  have  entered  into  the  spirit  of  these  times, 
and  if  we  can  picture  to  ourselves  a  young  man, 
sensitive  to  beauty  and  to  the  idealising  appeals 
of  young  girlhood,  versed  too  in  the  romantic 
literary  fashion  of  the  times,  we  shall  the  better 
understand  the  spirit  in  which  Dante  regarded 
Beatrice.  He  saw  her,  not  with  the  eager  desire 
of  possession,  but  with  the  timid  and  trembling 
reverence  of  one  who  regarded  woman  as  a  right 
worshipful  being.  It  was  not  even  the  maiden 


54      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

passion  for  a  maid  :  it  was  the  tender  awe  of 
purity,  the  longing  to  protect,  the  instinct  to 
worship,  the  dread  to  offend,  the  fear  to  intrude, 
the  sense  of  personal  un worthiness,  conjoined  with 
eagerness  to  serve. 

The  emotions  of  which  Dante  was  conscious 
were  thus  beautiful  and  powerful  :  they  brought 
warmth  and  elevation  of  soul.  They  are  like  pic- 
tures of  the  early  morning  :  they  are  as  ardent  as 
sunrise  and  as  pure  as  the  dew  before  the  dawn. 

So  let  the  morning  freshness  of  this  love  of 
Dante  for  Beatrice  breathe  its  fragrance  upon  us. 
He  saw  her — a  dainty  child,  clad  in  crimson, 
garlanded,  and  adorned  (Vita  Nuova,  §  ii.).  She 
eight  years  old  :  he  nine.  Writers  have  called 
w  '  him  precocious  to  have  loved  thus  young  :  I  do 
not  like  the  word  :  it  seems  to  me  to  anticipate, 
and  to  miss  the  mark.  Have  we  never  noticed 
the  fascination  felt  by  a  little  boy  in  the  presence 
of  some  vision  of  bright  girlish  childhood  ?  Have 
we  never  known  the  happy,  delicious,  and  inno- 
cent fancies  of  an  hour  like  this  ?  Such  is  not  a 
time  to  read  future  meanings  into  life's  scenes  : 
this  is  joyous  childhood,  delighting  in  what  is 
sweet  and  beautiful :  and  life,  all  unknown  to  it, 
is  laying  the  foundations  of  chivalrous  action  and 
reverent  thinking.  The  knowledge  of  the  future 
is  concealed  from  childhood,  but  the  thrill  of  a 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE         55 

new  experience  may  belong  to  it.  When  the 
experience  of  that  passing  thrill  is  recalled  in  later 
years,  it  will  be  described  in  the  language  of  later 
life  and  will  be  charged  with  stronger  emotion 
than  childhood  could  compass  :  later  life  interprets 
as  it  narrates  such  experiences. 

After  such  a  fashion  we  must  understand 
Dante's  own  account,  when  he  says  that  "  at  that 
instant  the  spirit  of  life,  which  dwelleth  in  the 
most  secret  chamber  of  the  heart,  began  to  tremble 
with  such  violence  that  it  appeared  fearfully  in 
the  least  pulses,  and,  trembling,  said  these  words  : 
c  Ecce  Deus  fortior  me,  qui  veniens  dominabitur 
mihi"  (Vita  Nuova,  §  ii.  25).  Such  are  the 
words  of  Dante,  written  some  years  later  :  they 
convey  the  record  of  the  fact  that  the  sight  of 
the  little  child's  beauty  thrilled  him,  awoke  a  sense  I  £ 
of  awe,  and  made  him  aware  of  a  power  in  life, 
which  came  to  take  possession  of  his  soul.  And 
yet  the  experience  was  scarcely  one  of  dread. 
It  was  one  of  delight  :  it  whispered  to  him  of 
happiness  :  "  apparuit  jam  beatitude  vestra,"  so 
he  translated  his  feelings  in  later  days.  And 
then,  as  a  resultant  of  a  fear  which  was  also  a 
joy,  the  child-heart  was  able  to  realise  that  this 
experience  might  bring  new  trouble  :  the  emo- 
tions were  stirred  :  the  bright  vision  of  the  child 
could  not  always  be  with  him  :  he  must  leave  the 


56      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

new-found  palace  of  enchantment.  Looking  back, 
he  puts  into  words,  more  pregnant  of  meaning  than 
his  childlike  experience  could  have  grasped,  "  Heu 
miser  !  quia  frequenter  impeditus  ero  deinceps." 

We  must  remember  that  the  emotions  felt  were 
those  of  a  child  of  nine  :  the  narrative  which 
describes  them  is  the  work  of  a  man  of  twenty- 
four  or  twenty-five.  As  he  writes  the  story  of 
impressions  which  were  very  vivid  in  his  child- 
life  he  reads  into  them  more  than  was  possible 
to  the  consciousness  of  the  child  :  he  is  now 
interpreter  as  well  as  narrator,  and  it  is  impossible 
for  him  to  report  as  a  child  would  what  he  felt. 
What  he  describes  are  the  emotions  of  a  fuller 
consciousness  :  what  he  is  narrating  is  the  first 
gush  of  the  river  from  its  mountain  spring  :  what 
he  describes  is  the  movement  of  the  water  as  it 
gathers  force  in  its  descent.  It  is  all  most  true  ; 
but  the  emotion  felt  was  emotion,  as  it  were,  in 
the  cradle  :  the  emotion  described  is  emotion 
which  is  struggling  out  of  the  cradle,  but  the 
baby  is  the  same,  and  Dante  is  quite  correct  and 
truthful  in  attributing  to  that  hour  the  dawn  of 
the  one  dominating  passion  of  his  life.  "  From 
this  time  forward  I  say  that  love  lorded  it  over 
my  soul"  (Vita  Nuova,  §  ii.  38). 

By  the  golden  thread  of  love  Dante  was  led 
onward  and  upward  to  its  transfiguration.  He 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          57 

presents  us  later  with  a  transfigured  Beatrice. 
The  Beatrice  whom  we  meet  in  the  poem  is 
different  from  the  Beatrice  whom  Dante  saw  as 
a  bright  and  smiling  girl  walking  the  streets  of 
Florence.  She  is  Beatrice,  loda  di  dio  vera,  the 
true  praise  of  God.  She  is  Beatrice  who  can  fix 
her  unblenching  eyes  upon  the  sun  in  heaven 
(Par.  i.  46-48).  She  is  Beatrice  who  bids  St 
James  cause  hope  to  sound  in  heaven  (Par.  xxv. 
28-31).  She  is  Beatrice  who  sits  enthroned,  as 
befits  her  worth,  with  Rachel  in  the  third  circle  of 
the  Mystic  Rose  (Par.  xxxii.  9).  She  has  passed 
out  of  the  realm  of  Dante's  youthful  dreams  : 
she  has  moved  upward  :  she  has  been  transfigured 
with  light.  She  can  be  stern  as  a  mother  re- 
buking a  wayward  child  (Purg.  xxx.  79-81).  She 
can  pour  invigorating  and  uplifting  power  into 
the  spirit  of  the  pilgrim  who  goes  heavenward 
(Par.  i.  64—72).  She  is  endowed  with  a  vigour 
and  splendour  which  set  her  among  celestials. 
The  beauty  and  grace  of  the  fair  lady  whose 
salutation  made  Dante  glad  have  been  lost  in  a 
glory  more  excellent. 

According  to  the  critics,  the  Beatrice  of  the 
Divina  Commedia  is  Theology.  There  is,  of  course, 
truth  in  this,  but  is  there  not  something  bald  and 
prosaic  in  thus  abruptly  dismissing  the  Beatrice  of 
Florence  and  substituting  for  her  Theology  ?  To 


58      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

another  age  than  ours  such  discontinuity  of  tran- 
sition may  have  appealed  ;  but  are  we  satisfied 
that  the  poetical  harmony,  so  indispensable  even 
where  the  spirit  of  allegory  is  present,  has  been 
maintained  in  such  a  case  ?  Does  it  satisfy  our 
psychological  judgment  or  the  demands  of  the 
poetical  argument  ?  Must  there  not  be  some  in- 
termediate steps  through  which  the  transition  was 
effected.  If  we  are  sure  that  the  most  widely 
deflected  ray  is  violet  and  the  least  is  red,  are 
we  not  also  sure  that  these  are  colours  which 
melt  insensibly  into  one  another  and  so  cause  the 
violet  to  be  transformed  into  red  by  a  pathway  of 
changing  and  beautiful  hues  ?  In  the  same  way 
we  must  feel  that  whatever  the  Beatrice  of  the 
Paradise  stood  for,  Dante  did  not  suddenly  set 
aside  the  Beatrice  of  his  youth  and  put  in  her 
place  an  allegorical  figure  :  the  changes  came 
insensibly,  as  the  changes  in  the  rainbow  hue. 

Love  stirred  his  soul  :  love  was  to  be  his 
master.  Beatrice,  the  fair  lady  of  Florence,  first 
inspired  the  conviction  that  love  must  be  the 
guiding  star  of  his  life  ;  but  death  came,  and  the 
smile  of  Beatrice  no  longer  made  sunshine  in  the 
streets  of  Florence.  She  had  been  translated  to 
heaven  :  she  had  become  "  the  youngest  of  the 
angels "  (Vita  Nuova,  xxxiv.  can.  4).  Thus  the 
love  which  had  dawned  on  earth  was  now  in 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          59 

-V-heaven.  Beatrice  became  associated  with  a  love 
which  was  celestial.  Dante  might  feel  for  her 
what  a  devout  soul  felt  for  a  patron  saint ;  but 
a  special  tenderness  born  of  undying  memories, 
in  this  case,  mingled  with  reverent  devoutness. 
Other  experiences  came  :  the  cares  of  life,  home 
anxieties,  public  responsibilities,  great  political  aims 
and  hopes  :  the  longing  to  make  Florence — none 
the  less  dear  that  it  was  the  city  of  his  Beatrice — 
a  praise  upon  earth.  Would  not  she  from  above 
smile  with  approval  of  his  high  and  unselfish 
ambitions  ?  Beatrice  grows  with  the  enlarging 
horizon  of  Dante's  life  :  she  is  the  background  of 
every  picture  which  his  fancy  paints  :  she  draws 
to  herself  every  changing  aspect  of  Dante's  ideal. 
When  he  takes  to  study  ;  when,  driven  forth  from 
his  first  refuge  at  Verona,  he  supports  himself  by 
teaching,  and  studies  philosophy  at  Bologna,  at 
Padua,  and  at  Paris,  when  he  seeks  intellectual 
wisdom  in  Aristotle,  Cicero,  Seneca,  and  Boethius, 
the  wisdom  sought  blends  with  the  memory  of 
Beatrice  ;  she  was  the  lady  who  had  so  changed 
him,  "  quella  Donna  che  m'  avea  mutato  "  (Convito, 
bk.  iii.  ch.  i.).  When  he  writes  of  language,  and 
seeks  to  confute  those  who  disparaged  the  language 
of  Italy  (Convito,  bk.  i.  ch.  x.),  he  tells  us  that  he 
loves  this  language  of  Si  for  itself,  for  its  good- 
ness, and  also  because  it  was  speech  used  by  those 


60      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

who  were  dear  to  him  (Convito,  bk.  i.  ch.  xiii.). 
Can  we  doubt  that  the  tongue  was  all  the  dearer  to 
him  because  it  was  that  in  which  Beatrice  spoke  ? 
Must  he  not  be  eloquent  on  behalf  of  that  speech 
in  which  she  expressed  herself  ?  He  loves  this 
tongue  with  a  most  perfect  love  (ibid.}.  Whether, 
therefore,  he  defended  his  native  language,  or  en- 
larged the  range  of  his  studies,  Beatrice  seems  to 
preside  over  his  life  and  thoughts. 

Then  arises  the  final  change  in  his  search  for 
wisdom.  It  is  now  no  longer  an  abstract  or  philo- 
sophical wisdom  which  he  seeks  :  he  desires  now 
the  wisdom  of  life,  the  wisdom  which  descends 
from  above  :  the  wisdom  which  is  not  made,  which 
cannot  be  discovered  by  argument,  but  the  wisdom 
which  is  created  by  love  :  the  wisdom  whose  abode 
is  in  the  bosom  of  God,  whose  activities  are  the 
activities  of  mercy  and  pity,  whose  guidance  is 
the  guidance  of  a  love  which  seeks  at  all  costs  the 
highest  good  of  what  it  loves.  Such  a  love  and 
wisdom  there  was  :  it  dwelt  in  heaven,  but  it 
sought  and  saved  him  wandering  on  earth,  lost 
in  the  entangling  forest  and  unable  to  climb  the 
hill  of  gladness  (Inf.  i.  78).  This  divine  wisdom, 
which  is  also  love,  he  will  call  by  the  name  of 
Beatrice  :  it  is  Beatrice,  then,  who  descends  from 
her  high  throne  in  heaven  and  hastens  to  his  rescue 
(Inf.  ii.  61-70).  He  has  found  that  the  highest 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          61 

wisdom  can  only  be  reached  through  grace  :  not 
ardent  study,  not  long  nights  of  reading,  not  wide 
searching  out  of  the  histories  of  philosophers  :  the 
word  is  nigh  thee  and  in  thy  heart.  Love,  which 
entered  so  powerfully  into  his  life  that  it  was  hence- 
forth to  be  his  lord,  has  been  his  guide  all  through 
and  must  be  to  the  end.  Was  it  not  love  divine 
which  first  awakened  his  heart  through  Beatrice 
to  realise  its  magic  and  purifying  and  uplifting 
power  ?  Was  he  ever  left  without  love's  guidance, 
help,  and  inspiration  ?  Was  not  Beatrice  the  first 
to  reveal  that  love  which  was  far  greater  than 
herself  ?  Has  not  his  life  been  always  under  the 
guardianship  of  a  love,  of  which  Beatrice  was  but 
a  manifestation  ?  The  love  which  shone  through 
her  was  the  heavenly  real,  of  which  Beatrice  for  one 
glad  sad  hour  was  the  earthly  sign.  Did  not 
Beatrice  pass  into  heaven  to  show  him  that  there 
in  heaven  was  the  real  source  of  that  love  which 
could  uplift,  purge,  and  satisfy  the  soul  ! 

Thus  through  various  phases  of  experience 
Beatrice — a  bright,  pure,  real  fact  in  his  life — 
slowly  assumed,  without  completely  losing  her 
youthful  winsomeness,  the  picture  and  image  of 
that  wisdom  which  love  only  and  love  always  is 
bestowing  upon  man. 

It  seems  to  me  that  we  have  lost  much  by  not 
realising  the  sacredness  of  life's  actual  experiences  : 


62      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

we  separate  them  from  heavenly  notions.  We 
draw  a  hard  line  between  that  which  happens  to 
us  and  the  things  of  God  ;  but  that  which 
happens  to  us  is  of  God.  The  dear  love  which 
first  aroused  in  us  a  chivalrous  spirit  by  unselfish 
devotion,  which  demanded  our  protection  and 
which  commanded  our  reverence,  was  not  this 
God's  messenger  to  us  ?  It  is  only  our  poor  narrow 
minds  which  submit  to  the  tyranny  of  time  and 
space,  which  hinder  our  perception  of  the  diviner 
influences  of  life.  The  hills  about  us  are  filled 
with  chariots  of  God,  and  the  angels  of  God  do 
visit  our  homes  ;  but  we,  alas  !  only  see  their 
earthly  vesture  and  their  transient  garments. 
Accordingly,  we  argue  whether  Beatrice  stood  as 
an  allegorical  figure  of  Authority  or  Theology, 
whereas  Dante,  looking  upon  this  life,  saw  God  in 
it  all.  He  beheld  the  ladder  :  he  marked  the 
angels  :  he  cried,  "  Behold,  God  is  in  this  place 
and  I  knew  it  not "  :  and  so  he  beheld  the  house 
of  God  and  the  gate  of  heaven,  and  he  called 
the  divine  wisdom  and  love  by  the  name  which 
first  awoke  him  to  the  possibilities  of  life  outside 
himself.  With  sweet  memories  of  early  dreams 
mingling  with  deep  conviction  of  eternal  realities, 
he  was  glad  to  call  her  Beatrice  as  the  one  from 
whom  alike  the  dawn  and  the  all-comprehending 
consummation  of  happiness  flowed. 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE         63 

Here  I  might  close  ;  but  viewing  life,  as  I  am 
compelled  to  do,  as  a  wonderful  order  of  divine 
education,  I  want  to  claim  for  love,  as  we  meet  it 
on  earth,  a  nobler  place  than  is  assigned  to  it  by- 
minds  saturated  with  material  views.  Lust  is 
passion  divorced  from  love.  We  may  degrade 
our  passions  by  judging  them  as  though  they 
were  purely  animal.  What  is  needed  is  to  lift 
them  into  heaven.  There  is  something  Godlike 
in  love  :  what  is  Godlike  must  not  be  converted 
into  flesh  ;  but  what  is  manlike  should  be  taken 
into  God.  The  fluctuations  in  the  fashion  of 
love  in  mediaeval  times  show  how  the  ideal  of 
love  may  oscillate  between  the  degradation  of  its 
diviner  elements  and  a  consecration  which  lifted 
it  into  the  bosom  of  God.  This  last  is  the  love 
which  is  exemplified  in  the  love  of  Dante  for 
Beatrice.  She  was  to  him  the  divine  ideal  of  that 
sweet  womanly  influence  which  dignifies  and 
elevates  human  life  and  gives  to  love  a  divine 
beauty  and  a  purifying  power.  As  Donne  sang  : 

"  No  more  can  impure  man  retain  and  move 
In  that  pure  region  of  a  worthy  love, 
Than  earthly  substance  can  unforced  aspire 
And  leave  its  nature  to  converse  with  fire." 

There  is  a  spirit  which  can  see  the  glory  of  the 
natural  order,  because  it  can  see  it  in  God  ;  the 


64      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

earth  and  all  that  is  in  it  lies  in  the  embrace  of  a 
divine  love  :  all  things  fair  are  doubly  fair  because 
seen  in  Him.  The  baseness  comes  of  looking  at 
things  with  earthly  eyes.  The  school  of  poets  to 
which  Dante  belonged  saw  things  in  this  light  of 
heaven  :  love  was  no  base  passion  :  it  was  a  pure, 
unselfish,  yes,  a  self-sacrificing  thing.  It  could  be 
awakened  by  the  sight  of  bright  and  chaste-eyed 
maidenhood  :  it  carried  no  defilement  :  it  evoked 
all  that  was  best  in  man  :  it  repressed  all  that  was 
base. 

In  such  a  guise,  love  as  a  pure  flame  entered 
into  Dante's  life.  In  the  order  of  things  Beatrice 
was  to  be  the  agent  for  kindling  a  worshipfulness 
of  love  in  Dante's  heart  :  she  was  to  bestow  upon 
him  the  gift  of  a  standard  by  which  to  measure 
himself.  She  was  destined  to  be  the  messenger 
of  heaven  to  him.  Angels  walk  our  world  and 
minister  to  us,  though  at  first  we  know  them  not 
as  angels.  God,  who  fulfils  Himself  in  many  ways, 
makes  of  the  incidents  of  life  a  ministry  of  good. 
Does  it  strike  us  as  strange  that  a  simple,  pure- 
hearted  maiden  of  Florence  was  charged  with 
a  ministry  to  Dante  ?  Or  that  Beatrice  should 
kindle  in  his  life  a  flame  of  love,  which  was 
destined  to  be  to  him  a  light  that  shone  all  the 
brighter  as  the  day  of  hope  passed  into  a  night  of 
darkness  and  disappointment  ? 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          65 

We  learn,  as  Dante  did,  through  love  :  we  learn 
by  whatever  mother-love  can  teach  us,  but  the 
order  of  life  brings  upon  us  the  influence  of  a  love 
which  comes  robed  in  mystery  and  which  kindles 
a  strange  fire  within  the  heart.  Then  the  soul  dis- 
covers the  power  of  a  love  more  imperative  than 
the  love  of  mother  :  it  may  be  the  prelude  of  base 
possibilities  hereafter,  but  it  comes  challenging  at 
first  only  nobler  impulses  :  the  impulse  to  give, 
the  desire  to  defend,  the  necessity  to  worship. 
The  spirit  of  reverence  which  then  arises  not  only 
pays  reverence  to  this  fresh  light  of  morning,  but 
demands  a  self-reverence  which  resents  any  stain 
upon  honour  or  any  foul  thought  which  might 
sully  the  radiance  of  a  soul  called  now  to  a  high 
and  unknown  destiny.  Oh  !  friends  of  elder 
growth,  whose  early  dreams  have  receded,  driven 
into  the  backgrounds  or  purlieus  of  memory  by 
the  hard  necessities  and  prosaic  details  of  the 
house-keeping  and  house-building  life,  and  into 
whose  hearts  comes  creeping  the  foolish  jealousy 
of  desire  to  bind  your  children's  thoughts  wholly 
to  yourself,  can  you  not  with  clear  thought  and 
larger  outlook  perceive,  if  you  cannot  recall,  that 
all  natural  emotions  are  beautiful  in  their  time, 
and  are  meant  to  carry  on  the  education  of  the 
soul  in  the  knowledge  of  its  own  capacities  ? 
At  least  have  faith  in  God  :  suppress  the  fears 

5 


66      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

and  check  the  murmurs  of  your  hearts,  and  see 
that  there  is  something  noble  in  the  dawning  love 
which  prompts  to  self-sacrifice  and  self-surrender, 
and  which  in  the  sweet  maidenhood  of  its  dawn 
is  a  pure  and  purifying  passion,  reverent  and 
worshipful,  and  capable,  if  left  unspoilt,  of  build- 
ing up  homes  and  of  writing  histories  worthy  to 
be  read  hereafter. 

After  such  a  fashion,  the  best  of  the  Florentines 
felt.  The  spirit  of  Dante's  age  saw  woman  as  one 
might  behold  a  glorious  vision  :  it  was  a  spirit 
free  from  all  touch  of  things  material  :  those  who 
shared  it  rejoiced  in  an  ideal  of  womanhood.  We 
need  to  realise  this  spirit  of  worshipful  aloofness 
if  we  are  to  understand  Dante  and  his  age.  To 
Dante,  filled  with  such  a  spirit,  there  came  the 
influence  which  has  been  for  ever  associated  with 
his  life. 

But  who  was  Beatrice  ?  The  question  has  been 
continuously  asked.  Was  she  only  an  ideal  ? 
Is  the  Vita  Nuova  merely  an  allegory  based  upon 
the  Shepherd  of  Hermas  ?  This  has  been  roundly 
declared  to  be  the  case.  It  has  been  urged  in 
support  of  the  allegorical  theory  that  Dante's 
insistence  upon  the  number  "  9 "  in  the  Vita 
Nuova  proves  that  it  is  intentionally  allegorical. 
But  what  is  the  fact  ?  The  number  nine  does 
not  always  fit  in  with  dates  given,  and  Dante 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          67 

is  driven  to  the  expedient  of  seeking  for  dates 
in  order  to  bring  them  into  harmony  with  this 
mystic  number.  He  is  compelled  to  resort,  for 
instance,  to  an  Arabian  mode  of  computation. 
The  Vita  Nuova  shows  us  an  author  anxious  to 
find  mystic  significance  in  the  tale  he  tells.  Had 
he  been  writing  an  allegory  he  could  have  arranged 
the  dates  to  possess  in  perfection  the  mystic  "  9," 
but  as  he  is  only  dealing  with  facts  he  tries  to 
make  them  fit  with  his  mystic  thought.  The 
simpler  explanation  is  to  believe  that  he  takes  a 
basis  of  fact  and  in  the  Vita  Nuova  works  over 
these  facts  by  the  aid  of  his  later  imagination. 
We  must  believe  that  Beatrice  was  a  real  person. 

But  who  was  she  ?  Was  she  Beatrice  Portinari  ? 
Possibly  she  was  ;  indeed,  I  think  we  may  say 
probably.  But  I  am  inclined  to  ask,  Does  it 
matter  ?  Whoever  she  was,  she  was  the  inspira- 
tion of  love  to  Dante.  She  was  the  woman  who 
stood  for  the  ideal  of  womanhood  to  him.  She 
was  the  influence  of  that  which  was  natural,  to 
be  followed  by  that  which  was  spiritual.  First 
that  which  was  natural,  afterwards  that  which 
was  spiritual,  is  the  Apostolic  order  ;  and  in  it  is 
the  explanation  of  the  story.  First  the  girl  awoke 
in  him  the  consciousness  of  something  pure  and 
lovable,  then  came  the  subtle  change  which  in- 
vested her  with  qualities  and  attributes  more  than 


68      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

human,  till  at  length  she  became  a  symbol  of  all 
that  was  highest  and  best — the  symbol  of  highest 
intelligence  and  highest  love,  the  symbol  of 
highest  political  ambition  ;  the  symbol  now  of 
Theology,  now  of  Florence,  but  always  the 
Shekinah  of  his  days  and  nights.  But  whatever 
she  became  in  Dante's  spirit,  she  was  at  first  the 
dear,  sweet  girl  of  Florence,  the  formal  element 
of  that  which  was  destined  to  be  so  great  and  so 
wonderful  in  the  days  to  come.  Her  death  closes 
the  first  act  in  Dante's  life.  The  narrative  of  her 
death  we  feel  is  no  mere  allegory.  Dante  is 
plunged  into  grief.  The  whole  world  is  changed 
to  him.  Florence  itself  is  a  city  which  sits 
desolate,  for  Beatrice  is  no  more.  Dante's  grief 
leads  to  what  we  may  call  the  chaos  of  his  life. 
It  is  a  period  in  which  grief  leads  to  recklessness, 
and  for  a  time  restraints  are  flung  aside  in  the 
vain  endeavour  to  forget  sorrow  in  excitement 
and  change. 

The  second  act  in  Dante's  life  opens  with  the 
restoration  of  his  powers  and  the  realisation  of 
life's  opportunities.  He  marries.  Some  critics 
believe  that  they  see  indications  of  an  unhappy 
home.  Here  again  the  conjecture  is  groundless, 
and  there  are  not  wanting  indications  which  have 
been  taken  to  prove  the  contrary.  In  Vergilio's 
poem  addressed  to  Dante,  he  speaks  of  a  Phyllis 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE         69 

who  might  crown  Dante  with  his  poet's  crown. 
It  has  been  thought  by  some  that  this  Phyllis  is 
Dante's  wife.  Gemma.  At  any  rate  the  pictures 
drawn  of  an  inharmonious  married  life  are  purely 
conjectural. 

Dante,  once  settled,  took  up  the  r61e  of  citizen  -\- 
life.  He  qualified  by  becoming  a  member  of  the 
Guild  of  Apothecaries,  which  included  literature. 
He  took  an  interest  in  public  affairs.  He  became 
a  member  of  the  Council  of  the  Captain  of  the 
City,  and  later  one  of  the  Council  of  an  Hundred. 
Public  or  private  affairs  led  him  into  money  diffi- 
culties :  he  was  compelled  to  contract  a  debt  of  a 
considerable  amount.  But  he  rose  to  be  a  man 
of  civic  influence. 

His  character  as  a  legislator  shows  us  a  man 
cautious,  zealous,  resolute.  For  six  months  after 
becoming  a  member  of  the  Council  of  the  Captain 
he  listens  to  the  debates  in  silence  :  he  seems 
never  once  to  have  opened  his  lips.  He  was 
watching  and  learning.  When,  however,  he  be- 
came a  member  of  the  Council  of  the  Hundred 
he  took  an  active  part  in  city  affairs  :  he  advo- 
cated reform  :  he  favoured  the  embellishment  of 
the  city.  He  shared  in  the  debate  concerning 
the  removal  of  the  hospital  and  the  burial-ground 
to  make  room  for  the  new  cathedral  ;  and  in  that 
concerning  the  beautifying  of  the  Baptistery. 


70      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  golden  age,  however,  of  democratic  Florence 
had  passed  away,  and,  when  Dante  became  Prior 
of  the  city,  cross  currents  of  popular  opinion  and 
intrigue  were  at  work.  The  old  lines  of  cleavage 
were  broken  up  :  foreign  influence  was  fatally  felt. 
In  office  Dante  showed  himself  resolute  and  in- 
flexibly just.  Hence  came  troubles.  He  took 
part  in  the  banishment  of  disturbers  of  the  peace, 
irrespective  of  party.  He  was  vigorous  and  clear- 
sighted in  opposing  a  grant  of  a  levy  of  an 
hundred  men  to  aid  the  policy  of  the  Pope. 
[e  foresaw  in  it  danger  to  the  independence 
of  Florence.  For  the  same  reason  he  dreaded 
French  intervention  in  Italy,  and  he  went  on  his 
fatal  embassy  to  Rome  to  deprecate  such  a  policy. 
During  his  absence  intrigue  led  to  revolt.  His 
enemies  and  the  enemies  of  Florence  gained  the 
upper  hand.  Swift  and  ruthless  was  the  vengeance 
of  his  foes  :  sentence  of  exile  was  pronounced 
against  him.  The  second  act  of  his  life's  drama 
closes  with  the  failure  of  all  his  hopes  for  the 
independence  and  glory  of  his  native  town. 

The  third  act  of  his  life  opens  with  exile. 
Hopes  of  restoration  for  a  time  animated  him  and 
his  friends.  Vain  efforts  are  made  to  organise  a 
patriotic  party.  At  length  Dante  learned  how  un- 
stable are  the  spirits  of  men,  and  how  few  possess 
singleness  of  mind  and  largeness  of  soul.  He 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE          71 

was  compelled  to  separate  himself  from  men  who 
were  incapable  of  sacrificing  themselves  or  their 
prejudices  on  behalf  of  their  country. 

Then  there  began  his  pilgrimage  after  know- 
ledge. He  visited  Bologna,  he  travelled  through 
the  Riviera  on  his  way  to  Paris,  and  it  has  been 
said  that  we  can  find  in  the  Divina  Commedia  a 
guide-book  to  his  steps  and  the  places  through 
which  he  passed.  At  Paris  he  studied.  There  the 
influence  of  mystic  teaching  still  lingered.  It  is 
true  that  Eckart,  the  most  learned  of  the  mystics, 
had  left  Paris  five  or  six  years  before  Dante  arrived, 
but  the  current  of  his  thought  still  flowed  through 
men's  minds.  Among  the  students  then  crowd- 
ing into  Paris  there  arrived  a  young  German,  John 
Tauler  by  name  :  and  he  too  fell  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Eckart's  teaching.  It  would  be  interesting 
to  know  whether  Dante,  then  forty-three  years  of 
age,  met  John  Tauler,  then  a  youth,  but  destined 
to  be  at  Strasburg  a  true  and  living  power. 

At  length,  however,  there  came  to  Dante  a 
sudden  revival  of  hope  :  the  scholar  became  the 
politician  again.  A  vision  of  world-order  rose 
before  his  eyes.  Henry  VII.  succeeded  to  the 
empire  and  initiated  a  vigorous  policy.  Dante 
hurried  to  Italy,  his  thoughts  full  of  his  vision 
.  of  a  free  Church  in  a  free  State.  He  wrote 
earnest  letters,  giving  fervent  expression  to  his 


72      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

hopes  :  he  saw  in  imagination  the  overthrow  of 
his  enemies  and  the  avenging  of  his  exile.  He 
was  present,  glowing  with  ardour  and  faith,  at  the 
great  function  at  Milan  when  the  Emperor  was 
crowned  ;  he  passed  with  the  crowds  before  the 
new  Caesar  :  he  kissed  the  feet  of  the  (Emperor, 
in  whom  he  believed  his  visions  might  be  realised. 
But,  alas  !  for  human  hopes  !  The  Emperor's 
triumph  was  short-lived.  He  died  during  his 
Italian  campaign.  Dante  had  misread  the  times. 
The  restoration  of  imperial  unity  was  no  longer 
possible.  The  spirit  of  nationalities  was  abroad. 
In  France  and  in  England  this  spirit  was  ex- 
pressing itself  with  resolute  force.  The  dream 
of  Dante  was  destined  to  fade  away. 

The  closing  years  of  his  life  are  those  of  an 
exile.  Ravenna  opened  her  doors  to  him  :  he  lived 
there  and  he  did  her  service :  his  skill  and  capacity 
pointed  him  out  as  a  fit  ambassador  to  Venice. 
At  Venice  he  bore  the  humiliation  of  being  treated 
with  less  respect  than  other  ambassadors.  He 
was  refused  a  ship  by  which  to  return  to  Ravenna. 
He  was  obliged  to  make  the  journey  along  the 
coast,  over  which  the  marsh  fever  breathed  its 
poison.  He  reached  Ravenna  with  illness  upon 
him,  and  within  a  few  weeks  he  passed  away. 

Thus,  as  an  exile,  Dante  died.  The  world 
dealt  out  to  him  hard  and  harsh  measures.  All 


THE  DRAMA  OF  HIS  LIFE         73 

his  dreams  passed  away.  He  loved,  and  Beatrice 
died.  He  cherished  high  hopes  for  his  native 
city  :  Florence  banished  him.  He  strove  to  realise 
his  dream  of  world  unity  in  imperial  greatness,  but 
the  one  from  whom  he  had  hoped  so  much  died 
prematurely.  From  one  to  whom  fortune  dealt 
out  such  hard  and  heavy  measure  we  might  expect 
a  gloomy  verdict  on  life  ;  but  he  was  too  great 
to  be  cynical.  With  his  temperament,  so  capable 
of  joyousness,  we  might  well  have  expected  that 
sorrow,  disappointment,  and  failure  might  have 
driven  him  to  pessimism  ;  but  he  gives  no  pessi- 
mistic verdict  on  life.  His  lost  dreams  have 
brought  him  a  better  vision  :  enlargement  of 
thought,  enlightenment  of  understanding,  eleva- 
tion of  hope  have  come  to  him.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  nor  the  last  in  human  history  that  grief  O 
led  the  way  to  greatness.  Shall  we  arraign  the 
Providence  which  scatters  sorrow  and  from  sorrow 
brings  forth  triumph  ?  God  writes  no  tragedies. 
He  only  shows  the  way  in  which  trouble  can 
lead  to  triumph.  The  significance  of  the  cross  is— 
wider  than  we  dream.  Who  will  lament  the  death 
of  the  seed  when  he  beholds  the  golden  harvest  ? 
Who  will  call  the  sorrows  and  sufferings  of  Dante 
wasted,  when  they  become  transmuted  into  im- 
mortal song  ?  Who  will  regret  the  tragedy  of  his 
life,  when  it  brought  to  mankind  the  Divine  Comedy  ? 


LECTURE    III 

THE   INEXORABLENESS  OF 
RIGHTEOUSNESS 

("INFERNO") 

IT  is  a  misfortune  that  the  Inferno  is  the  best 
known  portion  of  Dante's  poem.  People  are  apt 
to  judge  both  the  poem  and  the  poet  from  the  one 
part  of  his  work  with  which  they  are  acquainted. 
This  is  to  do  a  grievous  injustice  both  to  the 
Divzna  Commedia  and  to  Dante  himself.  The 
poem  is  thought  to  be  dark  and  lurid  with  the 
flickering  flames  of  hell  :  the  poet  is  pictured  as 
a  man  harsh  and  hard,  and  gifted  with  an  inventive 
gift  ingeniously  cruel. 

But  the  idea  of  the  Inferno  is  not  Dante's  in- 
vention. The  conception  of  hell  with  elaborate 
torments  is  a  commonplace  of  old-world  religious 
thought.  It  is  found  in  Christian  treatises  written 
before  the  Divina  Commedia  :  it  is  found  also  in 
the  chronicles  or  picturings  of  pre-Christian  faiths. 

They  are  to  be  found  in  the  East  as  well  as  in 
the  West ;  they  are  not  peculiar  to  Christian  theo- 

74 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     75 

logy :  they  find  a  place  also  in  Oriental  thought. 
In  the  Jeypore  Court  at  the  Indo-Colonial  Exhibi- 
tion in  London  in  1886,  paintings  were  exhibited 
(Nos.  1 165,  1 198,  1 199,  and  1200  in  the  catalogue) 
which  illustrated  the  tortures  of  the  damned  in 
hell.  Demons  were  represented  sawing  men 
asunder.  Other  victims  were  being  tormented 
by  birds,  snakes,  and  wild  animals  ;  serpents  were 
seen  ready  to  destroy  sinners  as  they  fall  into  the 
pit  (1176);  there  were  pictures  of  heaven  also, 
but  they  lacked  the  point  and  diversity  which 
marked  the  scenes  in  hell.  "  The  Jains,''  wrote 
Col.  Hendley,  who  provided  an  excellent  handbook 
for  the  Jeypore  Court,  "the  Jains  believe  that 
there  are  many  compartments  in  heaven  and  in 
hell.  The  former  are  usually  represented  as 
somewhat  monotonous  in  character,  while  in  the 
latter  no  complaint  can  be  made  of  want  of 
variety,  for  each  inhabitant  is  being  tormented 
by  demons  in  a  fashion  appropriate  to  the  sins  he 
has  committed  in  the  world.  Of  course,  cruelty 
to  animals-  is  most  cruelly  punished,  but  the  lowest 
depth  is  reached  by  women  who  have  told  false- 
hoods to  their  husbands."1  I  need  not  multiply 
examples  ;  the  horrors  represented  as  features  of 
the  Oriental  hell  are  sufficiently  well  known. 

1  Handbook  to  the  Jeypore  Court,  by  Surgeon- Major  (now 
Lt.-Col.)  Hendley,  pp.  19,  41,  45,  Calcutta,  1886. 


76      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  notion  of  a  hell  is  not  therefore,  as  some 
imagine,  peculiar  to  Christian  teaching.  It  is 
rather  an  instinct  of  the  race,  and  the  objector 
who  challenges  what  he  supposes  to  be  a  Christian 
belief  in  hell  must  be  prepared  to  go  further  and 
challenge  the  instinct  which  has  given  rise  to  this 
belief.  If  it  is  open  to  objection,  the  objection  is 
against  a  conviction  well-nigh  universal.  How- 
ever far  we  may  recoil  from  the  notion,  we  are 
bound  to  weigh  the  fact  that  it  follows  a  world- 
wide instinct  ;  it  is  a  tendency  of  human  thought 
which  meets  us  everywhere. 

This  being  so,  are  we,  in  virtue  of  what  we 
call  our  civilisation  or  our  modern  habits  of 
thought,  prepared  to  denounce  it  as  a  wholly 
worthless  or  degrading  belief  ?  Who  can  say 
that  it  is  a  base  idea,  or  that  there  is  nothing 
noble  in  the  fact  that  men  should  thus  collectively 
admit  that  there  are  doings  and  dealings  seen 
among  themselves  which  deserve — nay,  seem  to 
demand — hell  ?  Who  will  say  that  it  is  not  true 
that  evil — strong  and  long  persisted  in,  and  spread- 
ing till  evil  habits  prevail  among  men — does  not 
produce  a  state  of  things  which  resembles  hell  ? 
Who  will  say  that  there  is  not  in  every  man  a 
capacity  for  going  into  and  experiencing  in  him- 
self a  veritable  hell  ?  Take  this  thought  of  hell : 
treat  it  as  a  phase  of  human  thought  :  note  that  it 


,  fc  4 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     77 

marks  the  possession  of  a  genuine  moral  sense, 
and  realise  how  significant  it  is  that  everywhere 
men  should  have  formed  such  an  idea.  It  ex- 
presses a  sense  of  justice,  a  conviction  of  retribu- 
tion, and  a  striking  power  of  self-condemnation 
possessed  by  the  race.  Is  it  not,  in  this  aspect, 
the  voice  of  the  collective  conscience  of  man- 
kind ?  It  is  the  language  of  those  whose  honest 
wrath  has  been  roused  by  the  sight  of  wide 
and  wanton  injustice  done,  and  the  confession 
of  those  who  have  felt  the  keen  hell  of  self- 
reproach. 

The  idea  thus  being  one  common  to  humarl  - 
religious  thought,  Dante  deals  with  it  as  an  artist  j 
deals  with  the  material  at  his  disposal.  He  shows 
his  genius  in  his  workmanship.  He  wields  the 
imagery  of  hell  with  a  skilful  and  unhesitating 
hand.  We  may  acknowledge  that  the  scenes  he 
delineates  show  an  unequalled  power  and  range 
of  imagination.  We  may  say  that  nowhere  have 
horrors  been  so  minutely  pictured  or  massed  in 
such  terrifying  profusion  as  in  the  Inferno  ;  but 
it  must  never  be  forgotten  that  the  general  notion 
of  such  a  hell  belongs  to  the  common  stock  of 
human  thoughts.  Dante  is  in  this  but  the  artist- 
poet  who,  in  dealing  with  a  common  theme,  has 
handled  it  with  the  audacity  of  genius,  and  has 
thrown  over  the  whole  an  air  of  reality  by 


78      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

marshalling    all    its    elements    according    to    an 
intelligible  moral  order. 

Here,  of  course,  we  touch  the  question  of  the 
ethical  value  of  such  conceptions.  The  ethical 
value  will  depend  upon  the  standpoint  of  the 
author,  and  upon  the  spirit  which  pervades  his 
conception.  The  ethical  effect  will  depend  upon 
the  standpoint  of  the  reader,  and  upon  the  spirit 
with  which  he  studies.  In  other  words,  we  need 
to  understand  the  standpoint  of  the  writer  or  artist 
if  we  are  to  enter  into  his  spirit.  We  need  also 
to  take  note  of  our  own  standpoint  and  our  own 
spirit  as  students.  Our  standpoint  may  not  be 
that  of  the  Oriental  artist  or  the  mediaeval  poet ; 
we  must  endeavour  for  the  time  to  take  their 
standpoint,  but  while  doing  so,  we  need  not 
falsify  our  own  judgment  or  forget  that  our  own 
standpoint  is  not  theirs.  When  we  are  able  to 
identify  ourselves  in  some  sort  with  the  writers, 
and  yet  to  retain  our  own  honesty  of  judgment, 
we  shall  find  that,  although  there  may  be  real 
differences  of  formal  opinion  between  us  and 
them,  there  will  be  large  ranges  of  thought  which 
will  be  common  to  us  and  to  them.  Certain  great 
essential  ideas  will  remain  into  which  we  can  enter 
with  keen  interest  and  genuine  moral  sympathy. 

But  Dante's  power   is   seen  in  more  than  his 
vivid  delineation  of  scenes  of  torment  :  he  writes 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     79 

as  one  whose  thoughts  are  coherent  :  he  exhibits 
the  torments  of  the  doomed  :  but  he  graduates 
the  scenes  according  to  an  intelligible  system. 
He  divides  his  Inferno  into  three  main  sections, 
and  these  sections  exhibit  penalties  falling  upon 
sins  of  different  qualities  :  in  the  first  section, 
sins  of  impulse  are  punished  ;  in  the  second,  sins 
of  wilfulness  ;  in  the  third,  the  sins  are  sins  of 
falseness. 

The  Inferno  consists  of  nine  circles.  As  the 
pilgrim  descends  from  higher  to  lower  ground 
these  circles  narrow.  In  them  are  punished  souls 
guilty  of  sins  which  increase  in  heinousness  as  we 
go  downward.  At  the  summit  we  meet  those  who 
are  not  so  much  sinners  as  those  who  lacked  the 
help  of  Christianity  :  the  three  circles  which  follow 
are  devoted  to  certain  sins  of  impulse — J^olup- 
,tuousness,  gluttony,  greed,  and  wasteful  extrava- 
gance. In  the  next  circle  anger,  gloom,  and 
discontent  are  punished  in  the  Stygian  Lake,  which 
separates  the  earlier  from  the  later  circles  :  it  is 
a  transitional  circle  :  its  murky  waters  and  the 
wall  of  the  City  of  Dis,  watched  by  the  Furies, 
rise  between  the  sinners  of  impulse  and  those 
beyond  and  beneath.  Just  inside  the  city  walls 
are  the  heretics^jand  beneath  there  are  those  who 
have  allowe^jvioleace  to  mark  their  sin,  and  have 
in  wilful  wrath  turned  against  neighbour  or  self 


\ — 


8o      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

or  God  or  Art.  Then  we  descend  to  a  yet  lower 
depth,  where  the  classes  offraud)  are  punished, 
and  where  seducers  and  flatterers,  false  prophets, 
peculators,  hypocrites,  the  sacrilegious,  evil  coun- 
sellors, sowers  of  discord,  and  forgers  have  their 
portion.  One  lower  depth  remains,  the  ninth 
circle,  where  treachery  is  punished  in  the  region 
of  eternal  cold. 

Much  has  been  written  about  Dante's  classifica- 
tion of  sins.  An  anxiety  has  been  evinced  to 
bring  the  list  of  sins  in  the  Inferno  into  some 
kind  of  harmony  with  those  in  the  Purgatorio. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  general  harmony  of  values 
(if  we  may  use  the  expression)  between  them. 
Both  lists  indicate  the  poet's  judgment  on  the 
relative  heinousness  or  hatefulness  of  different 
sins.  Those  sins  which  may  be  described  as  sins 
of  impulse  are  placed,  both  in  the  Inferno  and  in 
the  Purgatorio^  more  advantageously  than  other 
faults,  i.e.  they  are  in  the  upper  circles  in  each 
place :  they  are  among  the  less  heinous  faults  in 
the  Inferno ,  and  they  are  in  the  Purgatorio  placed 
nearer  to  the  earthly  Paradise  which  crowns  the 
summit  of  the  mountain.  The  three  faults  dealt 
with  are  not  faults  of  a  vicious  type  :  they  consist 
of  a  giving  way  to  passions  which  are  common  to 
men  and  which  are  based  upon  natural  and  innocent 
desires  :  sexual  love,  hunger  and  thirst,  the  wish 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     81 

to  acquire,  and  the  readiness  to  spend,  are  not  bad 
in  themselves  :  they  become  bad  when  they  pass 
the  limits  of  moderation,  i.e.  when  they  disturb 
the  due  ethical  proportion  of  life  and  pass  beyond 
the  sphere  of  legitimate  activity.  They  are,  com- 
pared with  other  sins,  smaller  and  less  vicious 
faults,  or,  lest  we  should  appear  to  speak  lightly  of 
deeds  which  are  often  grievous  and  disastrously 
selfish,  they  are  faults  in  their  inception  untouched 
by  any  malicious  motive  :  they  may  overbear  con- 
science and  every  wise  restraint  of  reason  :  they 
are  rudimentary  passions  :  they  fog  the  mind  and 
they  drug  the  will,  but  they  do  not  of  themselves 
drag  the  mind  into  malicious  conspiracy  with 
them.  They  are  like  the  faults  of  children  for 
whom  the  attractions  of  the  hour  are  too  strong. 
In  short,  they  are  impulsive,  not  deliberate.  They 
can  be  set  apart  from  the  graver  faults  which 
follow.  They  may  be  called  sins  of  earth,  and 
appropriately  only  Nature's  forces  are  employed  in 
their  punishment — the  wind,  the  hail  and  rain,  the 
rocks  are  the  agents.  That  which  adds  the  evil 
touch  of  blameworthiness  or  heinousness  to  sin  is 
deliberation,  design,  in  which  a  man  begins  to 
plan  to  do  the  wrong  and  flings  his  will  into  the 
transaction.  Now,  there  is  a  path  of  transition 
from  the  sin  of  impulse  to  the  sin  of  deliberation. 

Can  we  fix  the  nature  of  this  path  of  transition  ? 

6 


82      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Is  it  not  prepared  and  provided  by  the  spirit 
which  broods  and  gathers  together  into  an  ill- 
treasurehouse  the  reasons  for  complaint  and  dis- 
content ?  The  fifth  circle  in  the  Inferno  is, 
remember,  pictorially  and  actually  a  way  of  tran- 
sition :  it  is  the  Stygian  Lake,  which  connects  the 
fourth  circle  with  the  City  of  Dis,  and  in  its 
waters  the  wrathful,  the  gloomy  and  discontented 
hearts  pay  their  penalty,  and  Dante  adds  a  very 
accurate  psychological  feature  to  such  spirits,  viz. 
the  sluggish  indolence  which  is  so  often  the 
accompaniment  because  it  is  so  often  the  cause 
of  discontent : 

"  Sad  once  were  we, 

In  the  sweet  air  made  gladsome  by  the  sun, 
Carrying  a  foul  and  lazy  mist  within  : 
Now  in  these  murky  settlings  are  we  sad." 

(Inf.  vii.  124-127.) 

This  is  the  transition  circle,  where  sins  of  im- 
pulse may  grow  into  sins  of  wilfulness. 

The  spirit  of  angry  discontent  is  the  soil  out  of 
which  the  violent  revolt  against  the  settled  order 
of  things  is  likely  to  spring.  Men  brood  over 
misfortunes  or  failures,  they  ignore  their  own 
share  in  promoting  them  :  they  deem  that  hard 
measure  has  been  dealt  out  against  them  :  they 
have  no  luck  :  injustice  rules  :  they  have  been 
left  unfairly  without  a  helping  hand.  If  only 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     83 

they  had  had  such  help — what  great  things  they 
would  have  done ! 

"Jim  Bowker,  he  said,  clf  he'd  had  a  fair  show, 
And  the  least  bit  of  help  in  hoeing  his  row. 
He'd  have  filled  the  world  full  of  the  sound  of  his  name, 
An'  clim'  the  top  round  of  the  ladder  of  fame.' " 

"  It  may  have  been  so  ; 
I  dunno  ; 
Then  ag'in  .  .  ." 

This  spirit  of  discontent,  which  broods  till  it 
sees  in  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life, 
not  the  educating  hand  of  a  beneficently  stimulat- 
ing providence,  but  the  action  of  hard  injustice 
and  unappreciative  favouritism,  rises  from  its 
unwholesome  brooding  into  an  angry  revolt 
against  life.  Thus  the  spirit  of  discontent  lingers 
close  by  the  walls  of  the  flaming  City  of  Dis — 
the  city  in  which  wrath  burns  fiercely  and  violence 
will  before  long  break  forth. 

Wrath  thus  set  loose  may  show  itself  in  various 
ways,  viz.  in  violence  against  others  or  in  violence 
against  itself — i.e.  in  murder  or  in  suicide  ;  or 
again,  in  defiance  of  God,  as  of  those  who,  moved 
by  disappointment,  burst  into  angry  revolt  against 
Providence.  One  class  of  sinners,  however,  are 
placed  just  within  the  walls  of  Dis,  and  not  im- 
mediately among  these  violent  souls  :  the  heretics, 


84      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

doomed  to  their  fiery  shrouds,  are  here  :  they 
hold  a  place  between  the  discontented  and  the 
actually  violent.  How  are  we  to  understand  their 
being  given  such  a  place  ? 

We  are  so  apt  to  think  of  heresy  merely  as  an 
intellectual  error — the  holding  of  some  opinion 
which  is  not  orthodox — that  we  are  conscious  of 
a  difficulty  in  finding  a  reason  for  the  placing  of 
heresy  here.  But,  if  I  mistake  not,  heresy, 
according  to  Dante,  is  more  closely  allied  with  its 
ancient  than  its  modern  meaning.  Bishop  Jeremy 
Taylor,  with  his  wonted  affluence  of  speech,  argued 
that  heresy,  rightly  interpreted,  was  more  closely 
allied  with  error  of  life  than  error  in  opinion. 
Thomas  Aquinas  lays  stress,  as  Dr  Moore  says, 
upon  the  notion  of  choice,  or  choosing  what  to 
believe,  implied  in  the  derivation  of  the  word 
heresy  (Studies^  2nd  Series,  p.  177).  Some  com- 
mentators on  Dante  have  argued  that  heresy  here 
ought  to  be  understood  of  one  special  form  of 
error,  viz.  a  materialistic  belief  which  was  practi- 
cally a  denial  of  God.  There  may  be  some 
justification  for  such  a  view,  but  it  hardly  covers 
the  ground  ;  it  fails  to  supply  the  psychological 
harmony  which  is  required  if  we  are  to  relate  the 
circle  of  the  discontented  with  the  circles  that 
follow.  But  have  we  not  the  key  in  our  hand  ? 
The  spirit  of  wrathful  discontent  may  well  develop 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     85 

into  violence,  but  it  does  not  leap  from  discontent 
into  murder  without  some  intervening  phase. 
This  intervening  phase  is  the  spirit  which  begins 
to  disregard  divine  sanctions  and  safeguards  in 
life.  The  thought  of  God  is  lost  sight  of  :  man 
will  go  his  own  way  :  from  discontented  anger  he 
passes  into  a  recklessness  and  wilfulness  of  mind. 
"The  ungodly,"  said  the  Psalmist,  "is  so  proud 
that  he  careth  not  for  God  "  (Ps.  x.  4).  To  use 
the  popular  metaphor,  such  an  one  takes  the  bit 
in  his  teeth  :  "  Tush,  there  is  no  God  in  life, 
how  should  God  perceive  it  ?  Is  there  know- 
ledge in  the  most  High  ?  Or,  if  there  be,  why 
should  we  consider  it  or  anything  but  what  we 
wish  ?  If  God  does  not  give  what  we  desire,  let 
us  act  and  do  the  best  for  ourselves."  The  spirit 
of  the  materialist  is  in  all  this  ;  but  it  must  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  phase  of  mind  is  the  important 
matter,  not  the  particular  form  in  which  this 
phase  may  appear  :  it  is  the  mental  or  moral 
attitude  which  is  ready  to  fling  off"  moral  restraint 
and,  instead  of  waiting  upon  God,  to  choose  for 
itself.  This  may  land  a  man  in  some  doctrinal 
heresy,  but  it  is  wholly  different  from  the  moral 
state  of  the  man  who,  in  his  search  for  truth,  will 
not  make  his  judgment  blind,  and  who  reaches 
an  opinion  which  does  not  square  with  orthodoxy. 
Intellectual  difficulties  are  not  sins.  Mistaken 


86      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

and  erroneous  opinions  are  not  sins.  Heterodoxy 
is  not  heresy  in  the  Dantesque  or  in  the  primitive 
sense.  The  heresy  which  Dante  describes  is  the 
heresy  of  the  soul  which  flings  off  moral  considera- 
tions and  claims  the  right  of  choosing  and  acting 
for  self,  regardless  of  the  will  and  law  of  God. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  heterodoxy  may  some- 
times fall  within  this  circle,  but  the  essential 
feature  of  the  circle  does  not  deal  with  mental 
but  with  moral  attitude,  and,  thus  understood,  it 
holds  a  fit  and  intelligible  place  in  the  poem. 

Thus  we  pass  from  sins  of  impulse  into  the 
region  of  a  discontent  which  broods  over  its  hard- 
ships till  it  flings  off  restraint  and  is  ripe  for 
violence. 

In  the  advance  from  lighter  to  darker  forms  of 
sin  there  are  periods  of  transition,  and  Dante 
indicates  these  by  the  interposing  of  some  special 
symbol  of  separation  between  certain  classes  of 
sin.  The  waters  of  Styx  separate  the  sins  of 
impulse  from  those  of  more  deliberate  wrong  : 
and  Geryon  must  be  summoned  and  the  great 
precipice  must  be  descended  when  we  would  pass 
from  the  circles  of  violence  to  those  depths  in 
which  fraud  meets  its  penalty.  Between  other 
circles  Virgil  can  advance  on  foot ;  but  in  making  / 
the  transition  from  the  circles  of  impulse  to  those  1 
of  violence,  from  those  of  violence  to  those  of  1 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     87 

fraud,  and  again  from  those  of  fraud  to  those  of 
treachery,  the  pilgrims  depend  upon  the  help  of 
others.  They  are  carried  by  boat  across  the  Styx, 
upon  the  back  of  Geryon  down  to  the  Malebolge, 
or  in  the  hand  of  a  giant  to  the  Cocytus.  Thus 
the  transition  from  one  class  of  sin  to  another 
is  marked. 

Sins  of  fraud  are,  in  Dante's  view,  worse  than 
those  of  violence  :  there  may  be  deliberate  malice 
in  violence,  but  there  is  deceit  and  craft  in  fraud. 
In  the  crime  of  violence  mind  and  will  may  unite, 
but  these  powers,  though  used  for  unlawful 
objects,  are  not  used  in  an  unlawful  way  :  craft 
and  cunning  are  not  resorted  to.  No  deceit  is 
employed  to  beguile  or  mislead  the  victim,  i.e. 
the  crime  of  violence  is  taken  to  be  a  straight- 
forward crime  ;  but  when  we  descend  into  the 
Malebolge  we  reach  the  realm  of  those  who  are 
deceivers  of  their  neighbours  :  "  Deceit  and  guile 
go  not  out  of  her  streets"  (Ps.  Iv.  n).  "The 
words  of  his  mouth  are  unrighteous  and  full  of 
deceit  :  ...  he  imagineth  mischief  upon  his  bed, 
and  hath  set  himself  in  no  good  way  :  neither 
doth  he  abhor  anything  that  is  evil "  (Ps.  xxxvi. 
3,  4).  In  the  downward  stages  of  evil,  there  is 
a  vast  difference  between  the  wilful  determination 
which  is  under  the  power  of  a  strong  emotion 
and  the  cold,  calculating  deliberation  which  lays 


88      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

aside  the  heat  of  its  anger  in  order  the  more 
craftily  to  plan  its  actions. 

In  harmony  with  this  deliberateness  there  is  a 
calculated  ingenuity  in  the  tortures  reserved  for 
those  who  in  their  lives  plotted  with  deliberate 
craft  against  their  neighbours.  These  sinners  are 
not  left,  like  those  who  sinned  through  impulse, 
to  the  buffets  of  natural  elements  :  the  voluptuous 
are  beaten  by  the  wind  :  the  gluttonous  by  the 
rain  and  hail  :  the  avaricious  and  extravagant  roll 
their  burdens  against  one  another.  But  in  this 
region  of  fraud  we  meet  with  elaborately  ingenious 
tortures  in  which  demons  take  their  share  :  the 
relentless  lash  here  resounds,  the  fire  plays  on 
upturned  soles,  heads  are  reversed,  the  boiling 
pitch  covers  some,  leaden  hoods  weigh  heavy 
upon  others.  Some  are  transformed  to  serpents 
and  retransformed  again,  others  are  enclosed  in 
wandering  flames,  and  others  go  cruelly  mutilated 
or  smitten  by  disfiguring  plagues.  Craft  and 
fraud  meet  here  with  ingeniously  contrived 
torments  in  payment  of  the  falsehoods  which 
they  have  so  artfully  plotted. 

Leaving  the  ten  gulfs  of  torment,  where  fraud 
meets  its  due,  the  pilgrims,  by  the  aid  of  a  giant, 
are  lowered  into  the  last  dismal  pit  of  hell.  This 
nethermost  circle  is  buried  in  the  heart  of  the 
earth  :  it  is  the  region  of  pitiless  cold  :  every 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     89 

spark  of  warm  love  is  banished  from   this   spot 
where  treachery  is  punished.      When    the   false 
heart  has  sold  itself  to   the   deceit  which  works 
evil  against  those  to  whom  it  is  bound  by  ties  of 
blood  or  gratitude,  love  flies  from  it.     In    such 
a  chill  heart   pity  cannot  dwell  ;   and,  alas  !    the 
penalty  of  evil  is  to  place  itself  under  influences 
which   tend  to  perpetuate  the  evil.      The  false, 
cold  heart  dwells   where   the  icy  blast  does  but 
intensify  its   coldness  :    the    breath   which    beats 
upon  it  freezes  all  it  touches.     This,  the  posses- 
sion of  a  heart  out  of  which  love  has  perished,  is 
the  last  doom  of  sin  !     The  Psalmist  (Ps.  xxxvi.), 
who  delineated   the    downward    progress    of    sin, 
expressed  the  final  stage  as  the  incapacity  to  hate 
evil  :   man  at  the  worst  is  the  man  of  whom  it  can 
be  said,  "  Neither  doth  he  abhor  that  which  is  evil." 
Thus  Dante  carries  us  through  the  descending 
stages  of  sin  :  he  does  so  with  an  inflexible  con- 
viction of   right  :    he   exhibits  without  hesitation 
the  inexorableness  of  the  moral  order  under  which 
we  live.     He  does  so  unswervingly,  even  when 
his  heart  throbs  with  pity  for  those  whose  lot  he 
describes.     A  terrible  conflict  rages    within    him 
while  imperative  rectitude  lays  down  the  law  and 
sympathy  pleads  for  some  mitigation  of  penalty. 
The  best  illustration  of  this  inner  conflict  is  found 
in  the  well-known  story  of  the  fifth  canto.     As 


90      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

the  sad  procession  of  wind-driven  spirits  passes 
by,  the  eye  of  the  poet  is  caught  by  the  sight 
x  of  two  who  cling  together  like  doves  moving 
1  lightly  upon  the  wing.  They  are  Paolo  and 
Francesca.  Modern  criticism  has  disclosed  facts 
which  tarnish  the  romance  of  the  story  of  these 
two  lovers.  It  becomes  a  question  for  the  student 
whether  he  is  to  read  the  tale  as  strict  criticism 
demands,  or  whether  he  is  to  take  it  in  its  earlier 
form,  which  is  full  of  the  tenderest  touches  of  a 
vivid  love  story. 

The  accuracy  or  inaccuracy  of  the  legend  is  of 
purely  secondary  importance.  Is  it  not  clear  that 
it  presented  itself  to  Dante  as  a  pathetic  narrative 
of  unhappy  but  genuine  love  ?  If  we  are  seeking 
historical  facts,  and  these  alone,  we  must  of  course 
accept  the  light  which  the  best  research  can  throw 
upon  them  ;  but  if  we  are  desirous  of  following 
the  poet's  thoughts  and  of  entering  into  the  realm 
of  his  imagining,  we  must  accept  the  legend 
as  he  desired  to  set  it  before  us.  It  seems  to 
me  we  must  deal  with  story  and  legend  as  we 
do  with  the  poet's  geography  and  astronomy  ; 
to  follow  Dante's  pilgrimage  we  must  lay  aside 
much  of  our  knowledge  of  earth  and  sky  :  we 
must  imagine  them  to  be  what  the  poet  believed 
them  to  be.  In  the  same  way,  we  must  take  the 
stories  as  Dante  took  them  :  we  must  not  ask 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     91 

what  were  the  actual  facts,  but  what  were  the  facts 
as  they  appeared  to  Dante's  mind  and  impressed 
his  imagination.  To  Dante  this  story  of  Francesca 
was  a  beautiful  story  of  defrauded  love.  If  we 
are  to  understand  its  place  and  its  significance  in 
the  poem,  it  must  be  the  same  to  us.  The  facts 
which  weaken  or  tarnish  the  romance  have  their 
historical  interest.  The  poetical  interest,  however, 
does  not  lie  in  these,  but  in  the  thoughts  and 
emotions  which  the  story  as  accepted  in  his  day 
awakened  in  Dante's  soul.  Our  interest  is  not 
historical  but  psychological. 

Now,  the  story  which  appealed  to  Dante  was  in 
this  wise  :  Francesca  was  the  daughter  of  Guido  da 
Polenta,  Lord  of  Ravenna.  A  long  and  disastrous 
war  had  been  waged  between  this  Lord  of  Ravenna 
and  the  Lords  of  Rimini — Malatesta  by  name. 
At  length  peace  was  arranged,  and,  in  order  to 
strengthen  the  peaceful  bonds  between  the  two 
families,  a  marriage  was  proposed  between  the  son 
and  possible  heir  of  Rimini  and  Francesca,  the 
daughter  of  the  Lord  of  Ravenna.  But  the  son 
of  the  Lord  of  Rimini  was  rude  in  appearance  and 
a  cripple  to  boot  :  he  was  Gianciotto — crippled 
John — by  name.  A  man  whose  personal  appear- 
ance and  manner  were  not  likely  to  win  a  lady's 
love.  A  counsellor,  more  crafty  than  prudent, 
advised  Francesca's  father  to  practise  a  deceit  upon 


92      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

his  daughter,  and  to  allow  a  brother  of  the  pro- 
posed bridegroom  to  act  as  his  representative  at 
the  espousals.  Accordingly,  Gianciotto's  younger 
brother  Paolo,  comely  and  courteous,  was  sent  to 
Ravenna.  Francesca  saw  the  young  man  as  he 
crossed  the  courtyard  :  she  was  told  that  this  was 
her  destined  bridegroom.  Everything  in  the 
youth — appearance,  manner,  breeding — appealed 
to  the  heart  and  fancy  of  the  girl.  The  ceremony 
of  marriage  took  place  :  the  bride  was  conveyed 
to  Rimini,  in  the  full  belief  that  she  was  wedded 
to  Paolo  ;  but  not  till  the  morning,  when  she  saw 
the  uncanny  figure  of  Gianciotto  rise  from  her 
side,  was  she  aware  of  the  trick — the  wicked  fraud 
upon  her  innocence  and  affection.  Her  love  for 
Paolo  and  his  love  for  her  had  grown — his  through 
strong  attraction,  hers  in  a  sweet  and  natural  trust- 
fulness. Their  love  had  become  a  fact  and  a 
force  :  and  love  in  her  case  had  been  violated  by  a 
cowardly  deceit.  Time  went  on  :  the  marriage 
which  had  thwarted  their  love  had  created  a  tie 
which  favoured  intimacy  :  the  intimacy  grew  fatal. 
Gianciotto's  suspicions  were  aroused,  and  he 
returned  unexpectedly.  Paolo  and  Francesca 
were  together.  Paolo  caught  sight  of  his  brother 
and  made  an  effort  to  escape  without  being  seen  ; 
but  an  accident  delayed  his  exit,  the  hem  of  his 
mantle  caught  as  he  left  the  room  by  another  door : 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     93 

Gianciotto  saw  him  and  rushed  upon  him  with 
dagger  drawn  :  Francesca  flung  herself  between 
the  brothers,  and  Gianciotto's  weapon  pierced  her 
bosom — once  more  Gianciotto  struck,  and  this 
time  Paolo  fell.  Gianciotto  left  them  where  they 
fell,  and  the  next  morning  the  lovers  were  laid 
together  in  one  grave. 

It  is  quite  true  that  the  soft  light  which  gives 
glamour  to  this  sad  tale  is  dispelled  when  we  are 
told  that  at  the  time  of  the  tragedy  the  lady  had 
a  daughter  nine  years  of  age,  and  that  her  lover 
was  already  a  married  man  of  forty  years  of  age 
and  the  father  of  two  children.  But  if  history 
insists  upon  our  accepting  these  hard  facts,  which 
transform  a  pathetic  romance  into  a  vulgar 
intrigue,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  this  is  not 
Dante's  story.  His  tale  is  not  one  of  treacherous 
and  illicit  love  ;  his  story  is  of  young  hearts,  first 
deliberately  thrown  together  by  worldly  policy, 
then  drawn  together  by  a  natural  affection,  and 
finally  placed  in  a  position  of  cruel  contiguity  at  a 
time  when  wounded  pride  and  innocent  affection 
filled  the  woman's  heart  and  andent  love  beat  high 
in  the  young  man's  bosom.  Dante's  story  is  of 
a  love  which  grew  out  of  circumstances  which 
carry  much  pathos  and  some  apology  with  them. 
It  is  wholly  unlike  the  tale  of  domestic  dishonour 
which  recent  criticism  has  made  public.  It  is  only 


94      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

due  to  the  pathos  and  tenderness  with  which 
Dante  has  invested  the  story  that  we  should 
divest  our  minds  of  the  ugly  features  recently 
added,  and  read  the  tale  as  the  poet  meant  it 
should  be  read ;  for  only  so  can  we  derive  from  it 
the  moral  significance  which  he  felt  it  to  possess. 

And  what  is  this  significance  ?  Here  we  need 
to  go  back  and  for  a  moment  to  follow  the  trend 
of  the  poet's  mind. 

No  reader  of  Dante  can  fail  to  recognise  the 
supreme  position  which  he  gives  to  love  ;  love 
lies  at  the  root  of  all  things  ;  it  is  the  great 
motive  force  in  heaven  and  earth  ;  it  is  the  power 
which  calls  all  the  best  faculties  and  noblest 
emotions  of  man  into  play ;  it  comes  with  a 
thrilling,  captivating  power  ;  it  is  no  mere  light 
fancy  ;  it  is  no  gross  passion  :  it  is  a  glorious 
force  enslaving  while  it  elevates  the  whole  being  ; 
it  has  in  it  an  abiding  power  ;  when  once  it  comes 
it  comes  to  stay  ;  time  cannot  destroy  it ;  force 
and  fraud  cannot  annihilate  it.  What,  then,  can 
be  thought  of  the  fraud  practised  on  Francesca, 
of  the  treacherous  policy  which  having  aroused 
love  sets  itself  to  thwart  it  ?  That,  in  Dante's 
view,  is  an  act  of  treason  against  God  ;  the 
deepest  hell  awaits  those  who  plot  such  a  crime 
against  love. 

If  love  led  Francesca  and  Paolo  to  death,  in  the 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     95 

frozen  depths  Cain,  the  type  of  fratricidal  crime, 
waits  him  who  slew  them  : 

"  Amor  condusse  noi  ad  una  morte  : 
Caino  attende  chi  vita  ci  spense." 

(C.  v.  106,  107.) 

There  is  no  doubt  as  to  Dante's  reading  of  the 
story  ;  it  was  a  genuine  and  inexperienced  love 
which  was  at  the  root  of  the  tale. 

But,  and  here  lay  the  sublimest  tragedy  of  the 
whole,  these  two  lovers,  who,  if  all  had  been 
simple  and  fair,  might  have  lived  a  happy  and  holy 
life  together,  and  been  crowned  hereafter  with 
the  paradise  joys  which  await  the  good,  have  been 
placed  in  circumstances  cruelly  tantalising ;  the 
barrier  of  a  loveless  and  wicked  bond  has  been 
placed  between  them  ;  in  one  sad  moment  im- 
passioned nature,  long  restrained,  broke  down  the 
barrier,  and  that  one  wild  moment  carried  its 
eternal  consequences.  Dante,  who  can  feel  with 
exquisite  sensibility  for  the  lovers,  realises  the 
tremendous  inexorableness  of  the  law  of  righteous- 
ness ;  he  knows  well  that  righteousness  is  as  the 
salt  of  love  to  preserve  it  from  corruption  ;  he 
knows  the  principle  which  long  afterwards  was 
proclaimed  in  now  well-known  words  : 

"  I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much, 
Loved  I  not  Honour  more." 


96      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

And  Dante,  with  the  strong  conviction  that  none 
can  play  fast  and  loose  with  the  inevitable  laws  of 
right,  sees,  and  is  bound  to  see,  those  two  poor 
souls,  more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  reaping 
in  the  dark  underworld  the  eternal  consequence 
of  that  brief  hour  of  wrong.  Oh,  the  pity  of  it  ! 
the  pity  of  it !  One's  heart  alternately  burns 
with  hot  indignation  against  the  treachery  and 
bleeds  with  unappeasable  pity  for  the  dear  souls 
which,  even  in  the  sad  region  of  the  lost,  cling  to 
one  another  in  the  pitiful  embrace  of  a  joint 
sorrow  and  an  unquenched  love.  The  whole 
picture,  exquisite  in  its  tender  and  delicate  de- 
lineations of  emotion,  sets  forth,  while  affirming 
the  changeless  law  of  right,  the  dignity  and  high 
quality  of  a  love  which,  even  when  charged  with 
frailty,  is  capable  of  enduring  throughout  eternity, 
and  which  unstained  might  have  lifted  these  un- 
happy souls  into  the  bosom  of  God. 

The  poet  in  giving  us  this,  perhaps  the  best 
known  passage  in  his  poem,  has  impressed  upon  it 
an  enduring  quality,  because  in  it  his  great  faith  in 
love,  his  stern  demand  for  its  untarnished  honour, 
and  his  inexpressible  human  sympathy  all  mingle 
in  a  scene  which  appeals  to  every  pure  and  tender 
heart.  No  wonder  that  artists  have  tried — alas  ! 
how  vainly — to  translate  this  picture  into  form  and 
colour.  Dor6,  as  might  be  expected,  vulgarised 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     97 

it.  Even  Hoffman,  whose  gifts  are  of  a  higher 
range,  gives  us  but  a  coarse  parody  of  it.  Ary 
Scheffer  was  nearer  to  a  true  conception  ;  but  it 
was  reserved  for  an  Englishman,  Watts,  to  express 
most  truthfully  the  unutterable  sadness  of  the  inci- 
dent when  he  showed  us  the  meeting  of  change- 
less regret  with  changeless  love  in  the  wearied 
frames  and  drooping  eyelids  of  the  lovers  whom 
Dante  has  made  immortal.  A  strong  loyalty  to 
invincible  right  explains  Dante's  apparently  un- 
flinching sternness  of  character.  So  marked  did 
this  trait  appear  to  Mr  John  Addington  Symonds 
that  he  found  it  hard  to  understand  Dante's  tre- 
mendous denunciations  of  certain  evil-doers  :  he 
shuddered  as  he  thought  of  the  inexorable  and 
pitiless  condemnations  dealt  out  by  the  poet.  How 
could  a  man  who  could  linger  listening  entranced 
to  Casella's  song,  delighting  alike  in  the  melody 
of  sound  and  in  the  tender  words  so  tenderly 
uttered — "Love  that  discourses  in  my  thoughts," 
- — turn  away  with  deaf  and  contemptuous  ear  from 
the  prayer  of  the  wretched  soul  imprisoned  in  the 
thick  ice,  who  besought  him  to  wipe  away  the 
bitter  icicles  which  burned  and  blinded  his  eyes  ? 
(Inf.  xxxiii.  148-150.)  One  who  could  so  turn 
aside  from  such  a  simple  act  of  mercy  might  well 
be  deemed  lacking  in  sensitiveness  or  sympathy. 
It  is  no  answer  to  this  to  plead  that  the  scene 

7 


98      SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

is  a  fiction  of  the  poet's  imagination,  and  must  not 
therefore  be  quoted  as  representative  of  Dante's 
character  ;  for  it  seems  to  me  the  very  charm 
of  the  poem  lies  in  the  almost  unconscious  way 
in  which  the  poet  discloses  his  own  character.  I 
do  not  mean  that  if  Dante  had  really  encountered 
Alberigo  in  the  ice  region  he  would  have  refused 
to  clear  his  eyes  of  the  blinding  ice,  but  I  mean 
that  what  Dante  described  as  his  refusal  was 
indicative  of  the  treatment  which  Dante  believed 
was  due  to  such  treachery  as  Alberigo  had 
practised. 

Alberigo  had  a  quarrel  with  his  brother  and 
his  nephew  :  he  pretended  to  be  reconciled  :  he 
invited  them  to  a  banquet,  and  at  the  banquet  he 
said,  "Bring  in  the  fruit"  :  the  words  were  the 
signal  to  assassins,  who  came  in  and  murdered 
the  two  guests.  It  is  the  hypocrisy  and  treachery 
of  the  act  which  rouses  Dante  to  a  sternness 
almost  vindictive.  It  is  no  expression  of  personal 
spite,  it  does  not  spring  from  cruelty  or  littleness 
of  soul,  it  is  the  white  heat  of  righteous  indigna- 
tion. The  measure  of  Dante's  sternness  must 
be  found  in  his  intense  sense  of  righteousness. 
Beyond  almost  all  else  but  love,  his  conviction 
of  the  eternal  rule  of  truth  and  righteousness 
possesses  his  soul.  All  his  prepossessions,  his 
theological  theories,  his  political  preferences,  his 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     99 

tastes,  and  his  personal  sympathies  must  give 
way  before  the  demands  of  the  eternal  right. 
He  was  a  true  Catholic  :  he  had  reverence  for 
the  Holy  See  :  he  took  a  deep  interest  in  doctrinal 
discussions  and  conformed  his  views  with  those 
of  recognised  doctors  of  the  Church  ;  but  greater 
than  all  ecclesiastical  or  theological  matters  was 
the  ethical  order  of  the  universe  :  he  could  sub- 
mit theories  to  orthodox  opinions  and  customs  to 
Church  rule,  but  he  could  not  put  his  conscience 
in  pawn  or  believe  that  official  authority  could 
set  aside  the  everlasting  laws  of  righteousness. 

To  those  to  whom  right  holds  such  a  supreme 
place,  a  certain  sternness  must  come.  "  Fiat 
justitia  ruat  coelum  "  has  often  been  proclaimed 
when  it  is  not  justice,  but  intolerance,  which  has 
inspired  the  utterance.  But  with  Dante  it  is  a 
noble  and  inexorable  faith  in  righteousness  which 
fills  his  soul  and  lifts  him  at  times  into  a 
judgment-seat  nobler  and  loftier  than  that  of 
Popes  and  Kings  ;  for  even  these  he  arraigns 
before  the  throne  of  eternal  righteousness.  To 
him  the  ultimate  failure  of  righteousness  is  in- 
credible, and  unbelief  in  its  sovereignty  is  the 
supreme  heresy. 

The  Inferno  thus  manifests  law,  strong  and 
inexorable.  Dante  maintains  in  his  picturing  of 
it  the  inviolability  of  the  moral  order  ;  but  we 


ioo    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

shall  not  reach  the  full  significance  of  its  teaching 
if  we  fail  to  note  that  the  Inferno  bears  witness 
also  to  the  law  of  love  as  the  supreme  law  of 
the  universe.  Dante  leads  us  into  the  realms  of 
hell  :  he  takes  us  through  the  dim  vestibule  of 
anguish,  through  its  murky  flow,  its  oozy  and 
darksome  floods,  past  its  flaring  towers  and 
furnace-like  graves,  across  the  causeway  which 
flanks  its  rivers  of  blood  and  its  fields  of  fiery 
rain,  through  its  blazing  torrents  and  its  frozen 
horrors  ;  but  before  we  enter  he  tells  us  that  love 
had  a  part  in  its  making.  We  may  tread  in  these 
sad  regions  where  the  beams  of  day  are  "  silent  all," 
yet,  even  in  this  darkness,  a  flicker  of  light  such  as 
we  sometimes  see  in  fitful  movement  on  a  starless 
night  meets  us  in  our  journey.  This  is  a  realm 
in  which  hope  can  hardly  live,  but  it  is  one,  so 
Dante  shows  us,  into  which  love — great,  powerful, 
patient  love — can  enter,  and,  though  bruised  and 
wounded,  can  live  on  with  inextinguishable  flame. 
Dante  is  the  poet  of  love,  and  in  the  deeps  of 
hell  he  will  find  it  for  us.  He  mentions  love 
many  times  in  his  great  poem.  It  is  the  one  great 
keyword  of  his  thought  :  creation  is  love  mani- 
fested :  "  Into  new  loves  the  eternal  love  un- 
folded "  (Par.  xxix.  18).  With  it  alone  can  we 
unlock  the  closed  doors  of  its  best  and  highest 
imagery.  Love,  which  is  the  atmosphere  of 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     iof 

heaven  and  the  explanation  of  Purgatory,  claims 
a  right  of  entry  into  the  kingdom  of  the  lost. 
Love  is  mentioned  nineteen  times  in  the  Inferno. 
There  are  some  occasions  in  which  love  is 
mentioned  which  we  may  dismiss  at  once  as 
having  no  special  bearing  on  our  subject.  Once 
it  is  mentioned  as  a  worthy  quality  in  rulers  - 
(C.  i.  104)  :  once  as  the  strong  incentive  to  study 
(C.  i.  83)  :  and  there  are  two  occasions  on  which 
the  reference  is  to  the  power  of  fraud  to  break  down 
the  bonds  of  ordinary  human  love  (C.  xi.  56-62). 
Of  the  remaining  fifteen  allusions,  four  may  be 
said  to  deal  with  divine  love,  and  eleven  with  love 
between  man  and  woman. 

When  we  deal  with  these  eleven  references  to 
this  weak  and  sweet  human  love,  we  can  reduce 
them  at  once  to  nine  by  eliminating  the  reference 
in  canto  xxx.  39  to  the  perverted  love  of  the 
wretched  Mirra,  and  the  reference  to  the  ardent 
spirit  of  adventure  which  drove  Ulysses  forth 
upon  further  travels,  carried  away  by  a  love  of 
enterprise  which  was  stronger  than  the  duteous 
love  he  owed  Penelope.  When  we  have  put 
aside  these  references  to  love  perverted  and 
vanquishing,  all  the  other  nine  lie  within  the 
compass  of  the  famous  fifth  canto.  What  is  the 
significance  of  this  canto  ?  It  tells  the  story  of 
those  unhappy  mortals  who  have  been  undone 


102    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

by  this  strong  and  wonderful  passion  of  love. 
The  greatest  have  gone  down  before  it — Achilles, 
the  warrior  champion  of  the  Greeks,  the  hero  of 
the  siege  of  Troy,  having  fought  manfully  in  all 
else,  is  carried  away  by  it : 

"  II  grande  Achilla, 
Che  con  amore  al  fine  combatteo." 

(Inf.  v.  65,  66.) 

The  fifth  canto  is  the  canto  of  love.  In  it  we 
see,  driven  by  the  inexorable  blast,  the  great  cloud 
of  souls  who  lost  their  lives  for  love  (C.  v.  69). 
Semiramis,  Dido,  Cleopatra,  Helen,  Tristan,  with 
others,  dames  and  cavaliers  of  old,  go  flitting  by. 
With  these  go  the  sad  pair  on  whose  tragedy  we 
have  touched. 

In  their  story,  as  told  by  Dante,  love  enters  in 
an  unexpected  fashion  into  the  loveless  realm  of 
the  lost,  for  let  us  mark  that  the  characteristic  of 
the  Inferno  is  its  lovelessness  ;  it  is  a  region 
without  light  and  without  song,  because  it  is  a 
region  without  love.  In  only  one  other  place 
besides  this  Francesca  incident  does  Dante  give 
admission  to  love  in  hell.  That  passage  for  the 
moment  I  reserve,  while  I  wish  to  lay  stress 
upon  the  great  and  significant  fact  that,  according 
to  Dante,  hell  is  the  region  from  which  love  is 
being  slowly  banished. 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     103 

Once  we  have  left  the  fifth  canto  behind,  all 
the  sins  which  confront  us  are  sins  against  love — 
and  in  their  consummation  they  drive  love  out 
of  heart  and  life.  Go  down  to  the  lowest  pit  of 
all — stand  upon  the  great  ice  plain  and  shrink 
before  the  ice-cold  blast ;  the  keen  wind  which 
freezes  heart  and  eyes  is  generated  by  the  move- 
ment of  Lucifer's  wings.  Everything  which  this 
chill  wind  meets  is  frozen  into  death.  We  meet 
the  inversion  of  all  that  we  find  in  the  Paradiso. 
There,  as  here,  there  is  a  spot  which  is  motionless, 
but  here  it  is  the  motionlessness  of  death  :  in 
Paradise  it  is  the  stillness  of  eternal  peace.  There, 
as  here,  there  is  a  power  which  generates  move- 
ment, but  here  the  movement  kills  with  its  icy 
touch  the  first  sign  of  that  which  is  life  indeed. 
There  the  movement  is  the  movement  of  love 
spreading  everywhere  its  sweet  and  far-reaching 
activity,  and  quickening  into  fuller  life  and 
affection  every  creature  according  to  its  capacity 
to  receive  and  to  respond. 

Thus,  written  in  the  eternal  world  of  the 
Inferno  as  conceived  by  Dante,  we  may  read  the 
changeless  principle  concerning  evil — "  the  end 
of  these  things  is  death."  Inasmuch  as  life  is 
love  and  God  is  love,  the  final  death  and  the  only 
irrecoverable  death,  is  seen  there  where  love  is 
slain  to  its  very  roots  and  its  power  of  revival  is 


io4    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

destroyed.  And  as  the  great  ice  circle  preaches 
that  the  final  form  of  sin  is  the  death  of  love 
which  is  the  life  of  the  soul,  so  do  all  the  earlier 
circles  show  that  the  sorrows,  miseries,  disappoint- 
ments, and  despairs  of  existence  can  be  traced  to 
those  sins  which  either  pervert  or  mutilate,  stifle, 
wound,  or  destroy  those  capacities  of  love  which, 
if  nourished,  tended,  and  quickened  by  exercise 
into  kindly  activity,  can  ripen  into  a  living  power 
pervading  man's  life  and  uplifting  his  character, 
till  it  grows  beautiful  with  the  beauty  which  is 
divine. 

%The  lack  of  love,  then,  is  the  disease  of  the  soul, 
from  which  all  life's  worst  evils  flow.  Let  this 
thought  keep  its  place  in  our  minds,  for  otherwise 
we  shall  misconceive  Dante's  teaching.  Indeed, 
we  may  well  hesitate  to  look  into  the  torture 
chambers  of  the  Inferno  if  we  have  not  grasped 
this  central  and  saving  thought.  In  one  passage, 
Dante  has  pointed  out  with  firm  finger  in  vivid 
metaphorical  way  the  perils  of  beholding  evil 
with  unclarified  vision.  Only  heavenly  eyes  can 
look  into  the  face  of  evil  unharmed.  Sanctified 
spirits  may  take  up  the  serpent  and  drink  the 
deadly  thing  unharmed,  and  those  with  whom  the 
Son  of  God  goes  as  companion  may  pass  through 
the  fire  unscathed  ;  but  for  ordinary  mortals  the 
very  sight  of  evil  is  bad,  and  may  end  in  a 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     105 

paralysed  conscience.  Is  it  not  thus  that  we 
must  read  the  parable  which  is  acted  before  our 
eyes  in  the  ninth  canto  of  the  Inferno^  when  the 
Furies  cried,  "  Medusa,  come,  so  we  to  stone  will 
turn  him  "  ?  At  the  words,  Virgil  turned  Dante 
round,  and  bade  him  close  his  eyes,  for  the 
Gorgon's  head  once  seen  would  make  the  return 
from  hell  impossible. 

We  often  play  with  evil,  and  thoughtlessly  treat 
some  aspects  of  it  as  a  joke  ;  but  as  it  is  dangerous 
to  play  with  fire,  so  is  there  a  moral  danger  in 
familiarity  with  wrong.  Even  the  prudish  customs 
which  Mrs  Grundy  maintains  may  have  their 
value  ;  we  need  to  realise  that  one  fatal  result  of 
seeing  evil  may  be  to  lose  moral  sense  of  its  evil. 
"  Sin,"  writes  a  modern  novelist,1  "  sin  effects  an 
organic  change  in  man,  so  that  even  its  expiation 
is  conditioned  by  the  blindness  it  has  wrought." 
To  thrust  oneself  rashly  into  the  presence  of  evil 
may  end  in  the  petrifying  of  the  high  sensibilities 
and  delicate  tastes  which  shelter  the  love  of  right. 
It  is  not  well  for  souls  untrained  in  spiritual 
activity  to  dwell  among  evil  things  ;  it  needs 
much  baptism  of  good  to  be  able  to  meet  even 
the  sight  of  evil  unharmed.  I  doubt  whether  the 
reading  of  the  Inferno  to  those  who  do  not  hold 
the  true  key  to  its  significance  is  likely  to  do 
1  Sir  Guy  and  Lady  Rannard^  by  H.  N.  Dickinson,  p.  215. 


106    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

much  good.  The  sight  of  the  horrible  conse- 
quences of  evil  can  for  such  lead  at  the  best  to 
fear.  Fear  of  this  kind  is  not  good.  Therefore, 
before  I  ask  you  to  mark  some  of  its  characteristic 
features  as  unfoldings  of  sin,  let  me  recall  Dante's 
own  great  principle  of  life  and  good — even  the 
love  which  can  cast  out  fear  ;  for  love,  says 

Dante, 

"Love  must  be 

The  seed  within  yourselves  of  every  virtue 
And  every  act  that  merits  punishment." 

(Purg.  xvii.  103,  105.) 

This  must  be  kept  in  mind  ;  love  is  Creation's 
final  law,  and  those  who  sin  against  the  pure 
beauty  and  high  demands  of  love  create  their  own 
punishment ;  they  are  become  aliens  in  the  divine 
kingdom,  and  their  doom  springs  up  naturally 
from  the  sowing  of  some  seed  of  selfishness  dis- 
regarding the  higher  claims  of  love.  When  we 
realise  this  principle,  the  scenes  in  the  Inferno 
become  illustrations  of  an  intelligible  law  ;  the 
horrific  thoughts  of  arbitrary  power,  or  of  a  force 
which  delights  in  torment,  or  of  a  mere  dogmatic 
hell,  pass  away.  The  terror  is  no  longer  the 
palsying  terror  of  a  slavish  and  unreasoning 
dread  ;  it  is  now  what  the  Apostle  would  call 
"the  terror  of  the  Lord,"  the  working  out  of 
that  law  which,  in  its  ultimate  analysis,  will  be 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     107 

found  to  be  a  law  of  love — "  Whatsoever  a  man 
soweth  that  shall  he  also  reap."  We  need  to 
learn — what  the  fashion  of  this  generation  is  so 
reluctant  to  face — that  we  live  in  a  world  in  which 
this  law  prevails,  that  it  is  the  vainest  thing  to 
seek  to  evade  it,  and  that  it  is  next  to  criminal 
folly  to  bring  up  children  in  the  belief  that  this 
law  is  not  true.  The  seat  of  law  is  "  the  bosom 
of  God  and  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the 
universe "  ;  and,  if  so,  stern  fidelity  to  law  is 
in  the  long  run  the  highest  love.  Therefore 
it  is  that  God  does  not  let  us  off;  for  only 
in  the  strict  maintenance  of  right  can  men  be 
led  to  the  conviction  that  evil  is  evil,  and  only 
in  the  faith  that  love  is  life  can  men  pursue 
the  pilgrimage  whose  goal  is  the  presence  of 
God.  The  Inferno  is  the  revelation  of  evil  as 
it  really  is  :  it  is  also  the  revelation  that  at  root 
evil  is  defection  from  love.  With  these  prin- 
ciples before  us,  we  may  study  the  circles  of  the 
Inferno. 

We  first  mark  those  unhappy  souls  whose  lot  is 
in  the  vestibule  of  hell — the  indifferent  or  cowardly 
selfish.  If  love  is  the  spiritual  law  to  which  we  owe 
obedience,  then  we  are  created  to  make  love  the 
law  of  our  lives,  and  the  first  great  treachery 
against  love  is  committed  when  self-love  takes 
the  place  of  higher  love.  Love  in  its  true  essence 


io8    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

is  active,  and  must  go  forth  to  some  person  or 
cause  or  object  other  than  self  ;  when  it  turns 
away  from  all  else  and  centres  in  self  we  call  it 
self-love,  but  even  this  word  does  not  fully 
express  its  reprehensible  quality  :  it  is  self- 
interest,  self-seeking  :  it  is  a  cowardly  self-pro- 
tection which  knows  no  enthusiasm  for  any  cause, 
no  courageous  activity  for  good  or  evil.  Those 
who  are  its  victims  are  despised  of  all  ;  they 
belong  to  the  wastage  of  the  world  ;  good  for 
nothing,  yet  so  mean  of  soul  they  are,  that  even 
if  they  could  be  of  use,  men  would  scorn  their 
service  and  heaven  would  have  none  of  them. 
In  the  vestibule  of  hell  we  meet  these  profitless 
souls — ignoble,  bereft  of  all  manliness,  beings  who 
never  entered  into  their  inheritance  of  life,  who 
at  best  existed,  but  never  lived  ;  they  are  left  to 
the  mercy  of  the  insect  world  to  which  they 
properly  belonged  ;  their  sin  is  the  turning  away 
of  love  from  its  proper  and  noble  function  of 
service.  They  show  that  though  love  is  the  law 
of  life,  it  is  only  a  true  law  of  life  when  the  love 
is  courageous  and  true.  Dante  cautions  us  against 
the  error  contained  in  the  saying  that  all  love  is 
good  : 

..."  How  hidden 

The  truth  is  from  those  people,  who  aver 
All  love  is  in  itself  a  laudable  thing  ; 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     109 

Because  its  matter  may  perchance  appear 

Aye  to  be  good  ;  but  yet  not  each  impression 
Is  good,  albeit  good  may  be  the  wax." 

(Purg.  xviii.  34-39.) 

Love  is  good  material,  but  it  may  be  stamped 
with  an  ill  image,  as  wax  may  be  made  to  receive 
an  evil  impression.  Here  is  the  secret  of  the 
matter,  and  the  exposition  reminds  us  of  the  ill 
use  men  may  make  of  the  good  God  gives.  But 
the  sin  of  these  self-seeking  people  is  that  they 
make  no  real  use  of  love  :  the  wax  is  marked  with 
the  seal  of  self  :  "  per  se  foro,"  therefore,  with  the 
opportunities  of  life  before  them,  they  "  have 
never  lived."  So  their  fate  is  to  dwell  within  the 
gate  of  hell,  sundered  from  all  besides,  for,  as 
heaven  could  not  receive  them,  hell  does  not 
welcome  them. 

"  These  miscreants,  who  never  were  alive, 
Were  naked,  and  were  stung  exceedingly 
By  gadflies  and  by  hornets  that  were  there. 
These  did  their  faces  irrigate  with  blood, 

Which,  with  their  tears  commingled,  at  their  feet 
By  the  disgusting  worms  were  gathered  up." 

(C.  iii.  64—69.) 

Poor  souls,  who  lived  for  coward  self,  shirking 
not  only  high  duties  with  their  noble  risks,  but 
also  the  petty  annoyances  and  pin-pricks  which 
assail  men  who  follow  their  convictions  !  They 


no    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

are  now  given  over  to  the  contempt  of  both  and 
to  the  ignominious  harassing  of  ignoble  creatures. 

In  the  first  circle  dwell  the  great  souls  of  Pagan 
times,  and  this  circle  offers  no  material  for  our 
present  inquiry.  We  pass  to  the  second  circle. 

If  love  can  thus  be  self-centred,  love  may  also 
be  degraded.  Pure,  true  love  is  lofty  and  un- 
selfish in  its  aims  :  it  holds  itself  in  a  noble 
restraint  which  seeks  first  and  beyond  all  else  the 
good  of  those  it  loves.  In  the  discipline  of  this 
world  it  has  scope  to  work  through  the  various 
channels  along  which  the  energy  of  life  can  work. 
It  can  express  itself  through  the  body,  which  is 
the  physical  realm  given  to  us  to  be  ruled.  Love 
can  express  itself  in  passion,  but  passion  is  not 
love.  It  is  given  to  ./Eolus  to  let  loose  the  winds 
upon  the  earth,  but  it  is  given  him  also  to  control 
them  and  confine  them  within  his  cave.  When 
he  ceases  to  rule  them,  he  ceases  to  be  a  god. 
Those  who  sow  the  wind  of  gusty  passion  reap 
the  whirlwind.  The  little  breath  of  air  that  was 
wafted  over  the  bed  of  flowers  and  bore  their 
fragrance  onward  in  its  bosom  is  the  same  power 
which  can  rise  to  stormy  strength  and  work  havoc 
in  the  homes  of  men.  The  power  once  let  loose 
soon  claims  its  liberty,  defies  our  control  and 
becomes  our  master.  The  passing  pleasure  too 
long  and  too  much  indulged  in  becomes  a 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     in 

tyrannous  habit  ;  that  which  was  once  a  joy 
grows  into  a  dominating  necessity,  and  men  are 
no  longer  masters  of  themselves  but  victims 
driven  along  by  the  passions  which  have  enslaved 
them. 

So  Dante  pictures  the  sinners  who  have  sinned 
through  indulgence  of  the  flesh  : 

"  I  came  into  a  place  mute  of  all  light, 

Which  bellows  as  the  sea  does  in  a  tempest, 
If  by  opposing  winds  't  is  combated. 

The  infernal  hurricane  that  never  rests 
Hurtles  the  spirits  onward  in  its  rapine  ; 
Whirling  them  round,  and  smiting,  it  molests  them. 

When  they  arrive  before  the  precipice, 

There  are  the  shrieks,  the  plaints,  and  the  laments, 
There  they  blaspheme  the  puissance  divine. 

I  understood  that  unto  such  a  torment 
The  carnal  malefactors  were  condemned, 
Who  reason  subjugate  to  appetite. 

And  as  the  wings  of  starlings  bear  them  on 
In  the  cold  season  in  large  band  and  full, 
So  doth  that  blast  the  spirits  maledict, 

It  hither,  thither,  downward,  upward,  drives  them  -y 
No  hope  doth  comfort  them  for  evermore, 
Not  of  repose,  but  even  of  lesser  pain. 

And  as  the  cranes  go  chanting  forth  their  lays, 
Making  in  air  a  long  line  of  themselves, 
So  saw  I  coming,  uttering  lamentations, 

Shadows  borne  onward  by  the  aforesaid  stress." 

(Inf.  v.  28-49.) 


ii2    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  picture  is  doubly  vivid  :  its  fidelity  to 
Nature  strikes  us  :  the  flight  of  starlings  as  they 
dart  here  and  there,  dive  down  and  then  soar 
upward,  and  the  doleful  chant  of  the  long  line 
of  cranes  are  accurate  in  fact ;  but  even  more 
true  to  the  law  of  consequence  is  the  picture 
from  the  point  of  view  of  moral  law.  The  swift 
change  of  direction  in  the  flock  of  starlings  is 
due  to  the  free  movement  of  their  wings  ;  the 
fatiguing  changes,  up  and  down  and  here  and 
there,  which  mark  the  progress  of  the  doomed 
souls  are  due  to  the  fierce  and  fickle  wind  which 
drives  them  on.  They  are  the  victims  of  the 
relentless  forces  which  they  themselves  have  un- 
loosed. They  go  wailing,  wailing  their  sad  chant 
of  sorrow  through  the  eternal  years. 

Thus  love  which  has  been  debased  sets  men 
at  the  mercy  of  passions  which,  if  ruled,  had 
been  a  strength  to  them,  but  are  now  a  cruel  and 
relentless  tyranny,  dooming  them  to  restlessness 
instead  of  that  heart-rest  to  which  pure  love  has 
ever  led  the  sons  of  men.  The  whole  picture 
is  dark  :  the  tempest  bellows  through  a  region 
robbed  of  light  :  it  is  the  realm  in  which  the 
light  of  pure  love  has  been  extinguished.  These 
souls  go  singly,  driven  in  solitary  suffering,  save 
for  the  sad  pair,  Francesca  and  Paolo.  In  their 
permitted  companionship  in  these  doleful  shades 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     113 

the  sentence  of  everlasting  solitude  seems  to  be 
remitted  ;  in  them  there  burns  a  spark  of  un- 
selfish love  ;  they  were  the  victims  of  a  momentary 
passion  which  brought  them  to  these  dark  stormy 
coasts,  but  theirs  was  not  the  vice  of  a  gross 
desire  grown  to  debasing  habit.  Upon  them  falls 
the  smiting  wind  and  the  everlasting  darkness,  yet, 
like  a  fitful  gleam  upon  the  face  of  night,  their 
love  gives  a  smouldering  light  in  the  encompass- 
ing gloom.  It  is  a  tribute  infinitely  pathetic. 
Dante,  stern  to  maintain  the  laws  of  eternal  right, 
sees  them  plunged  into  this  realm  of  restlessness 
and  lamentation,  but  he  has  not  the  heart  to 
separate  these  two  ;  wrong  as  their  passion  was, 
the  love  which  drew  them  together  was  not  wholly 
base.  He  leaves  this  inconsistent  spark  of  light 
in  the  underworld  ;  he  will  not  sunder  them  ; 
they  go  before  the  tyrannous  storm  for  ever,  but 
they  go  together.  Do  we  wonder  that  as  he 
listened  to  the  sad  tale  told  by  Francesca's  lips, 
and  heard  the  despairing  groans  of  Paolo  at  her 
side,  Dante  felt  his  heart  give  way  and,  overcome 
by  the  deep  pity  of  it  all,  swooned, 

"  And  fell,  even  as  a  dead  body  falls." 
("  E  caddi,  come  corpo  morto  cade.") 

(C.  v.  142.) 

Love — human  love, — like  a  tiny  green  leaf  on  a 

8 


1 14    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

burnt-up  soil,  is  seen  undestroyed  in  the  kingdom 
where  vice  has  destroyed  so  much  of  life. 

But  in  another  passage  in  the  Inferno  love 
makes  itself  felt  with  strong  and  resistless  force. 
No  reader  of  the  Inferno  can  have  forgotten  the 
place  in  which  the  poet  tells  how  at  one  time 
hell  trembled  and  the  universe  was  thrilled  with 
love ;  then  down  fell  the  giant  rocks  as  the 
mountainous  sides  of  the  infernal  prison-house 
gave  way.  The  devastation  wrought  at  the  time 
extended  further  down  and  broke  down  the  bridges 
which  spanned  the  gulfs  of  the  eighth  circle,  where 
the  fraudulent  were  punished. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this  convulsion  and 
ruin  in  hell  ?  Dante  explicitly  tells  us  that  the 
catastrophe  was  caused  by  the  earthquake  which 
occurred  when  our  Lord  was  crucified ;  he  is 
careful  to  give  the  date,  calculated  according  to 
his  theories  to  the  very  hour  : 

"  Yesterday,  five  hours  later  than  this  hour, 
One  thousand  and  two  hundred  sixty-six 
Years  were  complete  that  here  the  way  was  broken." 

(Inf.  xxi.  112-114.) 

It  was  twelve  hundred  and  sixty-six  years  before 
Dante's  pilgrimage  that  hell  shook  and  its  walls 
and  bridges  gave  way  ;  as  our  Lord,  according  to 
Dante's  view,  died  at  the  age  of  thirty-four 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     115 


ito,  iv.  23),  the  year  of  Dante's  pilgrimage 
was  A.D.  1300  ;  the  earthquake  took  place,  Dante 
tells  us,  shortly  before  Christ's  descent  into  hell  : 

"  A  little 

Before  His  coming  who  the  mighty  spoil 
Bore  oft*  from  Dis,  in  the  supernal  circle, 
Upon  all  sides  the  deep  and  loathsome  valley 
Trembled  so,  that  I  thought  the  Universe 
Was  thrilled  with  love." 

(Inf.  xii.  37-42.) 

So  Virgil  speaks,  after  explaining  that  on  his 
previous  visit  (i.e.  the  legendary  one  described 
in  the  ninth  canto)  the  precipice  had  not  fallen 
down  ;  it  was  shaken  down  afterwards  when  Christ 
uttered  His  dying  cry.  We  need  to  follow  Dante's 
thought  with  care  if  we  are  to  grasp  the  significance 
of  the  symbolism  here.  Two  things  are  clear  :  it 
was  at  an  actual  historical  moment  that  this  ruin 
in  hell  was  wrought,  and  the  impression  which 
the  trembling  made  upon  one,  who  himself  was  a 
denizen  of  the  highest  circle  in  the  Inferno,  was 
that  the  universe  at  that  moment  thrilled  with  love. 
According  to  all  Christian  thought,  the  supremest 
manifestation  of  the  love  by  which  the  whole 
creation  moves  was  shown  at  the  moment  when 
Christ  died  :  the  loneliness  of  His  suffering  and 
death  marked  the  climax  of  the  divinest  love.  It  is 
ruin  in  a  sense  to  hell  ;  it  is  love  to  the  universe. 


n6    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

It  is  a  love,  mightier  than  the  poor,  piteous 
love  of  Francesca  and  Paolo,  which  makes  itself 
felt  in  hell.  Hell  itself  cannot  escape  the  might 
and  influence  of  that  love.  Some  even  of  the 
dwellers  in  hell  were  rescued  by  the  victorious 
Christ,  for  thus  Virgil  describes  what  he  saw  at 
that  hour  of  marvel  : 

"  I  was  a  novice  in  this  state, 
When  I  saw  hither  come  a  Mighty  One, 
With  sign  of  victory  incoronate." 

(Inf.  iv.  52-54.) 

This  Mighty  One  drew  forth  from  hell  Adam 
and  Abel,  Noah,  Moses,  Abraham  and  David, 
Israel  and  his  children  and  Rachel — "  and  others 
many."  The  souls  so  rescued  were  those  who 
lived  before  Christ.  Virgil  is  careful  to  explain 
further  : 

"  And  thou  must  know,  that  earlier  than  these 
Never  were  any  human  spirits  saved." 

(Inf.  iv.  62,  63.) 

Hence  the  picture  set  before  us  is  this  :  love 
is  seen  rescuing  some  from  hell  :  love  shatters 
hell's  walls  and  leaves  the  mark  of  ruin  there  as 
an  eternal  token  of  love's  power  to  make  hell 
tremble  and  to  shake  down  its  ramparts. 

We  cannot  read  our  modern  views  into  Dante 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     117 

and  argue  from  what  he  writes  some  hints  of  the 
ultimate  victory  of  love  over  all, 

«  When  good  shall  fall 
At  last — far  off — at  last,  to  all, 
And  every  winter  change  to  spring." 

But  if  we  cannot  do  this,  we  may  at  least  point 
out  the  strong  faith  which  Dante  has  in  the  power 
of  love.  Amid  all  the  dark  scenes  of  unswerving 
law  and  unfaltering  justice  which  he  sets  before 
us,  his  confidence  in  love  is  unshaken.  Even  as 
he  sets  himself  to  build  up  the  great  habitation 
of  lost  souls,  he  bids  us  believe  that  not  only 
almighty  power  and  highest  wisdom,  but  primeval 
love  joined  in  the  creation  of  this  dark  abode. 
Do  we  see  hints  of  a  struggle  in  Dante's  mind 
between  his  loyalty  to  mediaeval  orthodox  thought 
and  the  freer  currents  of  his  own  disposition  of 
thought  ?  We  might  be  tempted  to  suggest  this, 
were  it  not  that  Dante's  own  courage  and  inde- 
pendence of  thought  were  quite  strong  enough  to 
refuse  to  write  down  as  true  anything  that  con- 
flicted with  his  own  moral  sense.  Of  this  courage 
there  is  sufficient  evidence  elsewhere  in  his  poem, 
and  we  must,  I  think,  take  it  here  that  he 
acquiesced  in  the  current  view  which  regarded 
hell  as  an  everlasting  prison-house,  but  he  did  so 
with  a  deep  and  unappeasable  sorrowfulness.  His 


1 1.8    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

soul  shrinks  from  the  vision  which  he  is  called  to 
see.  He  records  the  terrible  words  written  on 
the  doleful  gate  : 

"  All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here," 

but  he  tells  us  that  as  he  read  them  his  exclamation 
was,  "Their  sense  is  hard  to  see."  We  must, 
however,  regard  him  as  accepting  the  received 
opinion  of  his  day  on  this  matter,  the  hopelessness 
of  those  upon  whom  these  prison  walls  close. 

And  yet  he  starts  speculations  which  lead  in 
unexpected  directions.  These  marks  of  ruin  in 
hell  give  rise  to  strange  thoughts  ;  when  the 
precipice  fell  the  universe  was  thrilled  with  love, 
but  this  love  is  capable  of  causing  further  over- 
throw ;  it  is  a  love  which,  according  to  some,  may 
throw  the  whole  world  once  more  into  confusion 

— it  is  a  love 

"  By  which  there  are  who  think 
The  world  ofttimes  converted  into  chaos." 

This  phrase,  we  are  told,  carries  us  back  to  a 
doctrine  set  forth  by  Empedocles,  that  all  things 
were  combined  by  love.  Then  a  happy  life 
belonged  to  all ;  but  hate  or  discord  came  and 
disorganised  all  ;  and  as  love  or  hate  prevailed 
the  world  periodically  was  made  and  unmade  by 
these  opposing  forces.  In  this  theory  love  is 
the  harmonising  power  binding  all  into  one  happy 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     119 

sphere,  and  hate  is  the  disorganising  power. 
Dante  in  alluding  to  this  theory  gives  it  a  fresh 
turn  :  he  speaks  of  love  as  a  power  which  might 
bring  chaos.  This  is  in  harmony,  of  course,  with 
the  picture  he  has  given  us  of  love  bringing  ruin 
into  the  Inferno.  In  his  further  statement  he 
hints  that  this  love,  which  has  shown  its  power 
by  causing  the  falling  down  of  some  of  hell's 
bulwarks,  may,  in  the  view  of  some,  further 
show  its  power  by  reducing  all  to  chaos.  Love, 
in  fact,  according  to  Dante,  is  capable  of  acting  as 
a  disorganising  force.  (See  Tozer,  Commentary,  in 
loco?)  Hell,  in  Dante's  view,  is  a  loveless  region. 
Only  twice  does  love  seem  to  enter  :  it  is  patheti- 
cally but  almost  impotently  present  in  the  case  of 
Francesca  ;  it  is  present  or  makes  its  presence  felt 
by  the  overthrow  of  some  of  the  prison  walls 
when  Christ  won  the  victory  of  love  for  all  man- 
kind. Love,  therefore,  must  be  regarded  as  an 
alien  power  in  hell.  It  can  never  be  at  home 
there  ;  its  very  presence  bodes  ruin  to  such  a 
realm.  It  can  tolerate  nothing  which  is  not  in 
harmony  with  itself  ;  it  must  break  down  all  that 
opposes  it,  just  as  it  can  build  up  all  things  which 
are  lovely  into  beautiful  harmony.  Like  draws 
to  like  :  the  perfect  state  for  all  God's  children 
is  likeness  to  Him  ;  Christ's  work  was  to  gather 
together  into  one  all  the  children  of  God  that 


120    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

are  scattered  abroad  (John  xii.  52),  yes,  and  to 
sum  up  all  things  in  Christ  (Eph.  i.  10)  :  here, 
according  to  Apostolic  thought,  love  is  harmonis- 
ing all  in  one  ;  and  this  harmonising  must  mean 
the  disintegration  of  all  the  hostile  forces,  however 
unexpected  they  might  be.  It  is  strangely  true 
that  evil  cannot  stand  without  the  assistance  of 
good  ;  this  is  the  constant  weakness  of  civilisation 
as  we  know  it  ;  the  evil  gains  a  fictitious  per- 
manence because  many  who  are  good  give  it  toler- 
ation or  a  pessimistic  support.  iOnce  let  love 
really  rule  and  good  will  join  with  good,  and  evil 
will  vanish. 

"  For  evil  in  its  nature  is  decay, 
And  in  an  hour  can  wholly  pass  away." 

I  am  not  attributing  these  thoughts  to  Dante, 
though  they  are  the  outcome  of  one  of  those 
pregnant  fragments  of  thought  which  Dante  has 
left  hanging,  as  it  were,  on  the  hedges  of  the 
way  along  which  his  pilgrim  feet  have  trod. 

Thus,  as  we  descend  the  downgoing  circles  of 
the  Inferno^  we  realise  that  the  measure  of  wrong 
is  ever  the  golden  rod  of  love.  If  we  with  open 
eyes  could  visit  for  ourselves  these  sad  circles, 
and  if,  as  we  contemplated  each  scene,  we  could 
call  to  mind  the  Christian  standard  of  life,  re- 
peating softly  to  ourselves,  "  Love  worketh  no  ill 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     121 

to  his  neighbour,"  then  the  ethical  significance  of 
all  would  be  clearly  disclosed.     "Love  worketh 
no   ill  to  his  neighbour."      Oh,  poor  souls,  led 
astray  by  the  strong  passion  of  the  flesh,  had  this 
thought  filled  your  heart  you  would  have  learned 
the  happy  self-denial  of  love's  sacrifice,  and  found 
joy  instead  of  sorrow  !     Oh,  miserable  ones  crouch- 
ing beneath  the  noxious  showers,  had  you  thought 
what  good  you  could  do  to  your  neighbour,  you 
would  have  seen   what  selfishness    of   soul   you 
were  fostering  when  you  indulged  the  epicure's 
feast  or  played  the  gourmand's  part !     Oh,  men 
given  over  to  angry  and  discontented  hearts,  had 
you  heard  this  precept — "  Love  worketh  no  ill  to 
his    neighbour" — you  would  have  banished   the 
brooding  and  gloomy  spirit  which  betrayed  you  ! 
Oh,  souls  in  those  lower  depths  where  violence 
and  fraud  and  treachery  are  laid  bare  in  all  their 
revolting  ugliness,  how  far  from  you  had  murder 
and  falsehood  been,  had  you  but  laid  to  heart  this 
heavenly  principle — "  Love  worketh  no  ill  to  his 
neighbour  "  ;  for  had  this  love  been  your  portion 
you  could  not  have  lifted  up  the  hand  of  violence 
against  your  brother,  or  plotted  against  his  safety 
or  his  home,  or  given  your  soul  to  the  treachery 
which  betrayed  him  to  death  ! 

The  Inferno  is  the  manifestation  of  evil  :  it  is 
made  to  reveal  itself  in  its  desolating  power.     It 


122    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

becomes  a  self-revelation  :  it  is  the  place  where 
God  "  sets  our  misdeeds  before  us  and  our  secret 
sins  in  the  light  of  His  countenance  : "  it  is,  in  one 
sense,  self-discovery.  It  is  the  realisation  of  what 
we  are  and  of  what  we  have  lost.  We  may  taste 
of  it  in  this  world.  Indeed,  old  Dekker  shrewdly 
said,  "  There  is  a  hell  named  in  our  creed  and  a 
heaven,  and  the  hell  comes  before  :  if  we  look 
not  into  the  first,  we  shall  never  live  in  the  last." 
It  needs  no  change  of  locality  to  enter  into  hell. 
Do  we  not  recall  the  scene  in  Marlowe's  Faust  ? 
Faust  questions  Mephistopheles  : 

Faustus.  Where  art  thou  damned  ? 

Mephistopheles.   In  hell. 

Faustus.  How  comes  it,  then,  that  thou  art  out  of  hell  ? 

Mephistopheles.  Why,  this  is  hell !     Nor  am  I  out  of  it. 
Think'st  thou  that  I,  that  saw  the  face  of  God 
And  tasted  the  eternal  joys  of  heaven, 
Am  not  tormented  with  ten  thousands  hells 
In  being  deprived  of  everlasting  bliss  ? 

Here  is  the  realisation  of  distance  from  heaven 
and  deprivation  of  the  face  of  God.  The  re- 
cognition of  sin  as  it  really  is  makes  this  realisa- 
tion of  distance  and  loss  painful  to  the  soul.  The 
more  love  is  understood  as  the  moving  force  of  the 
universe,  the  more  keen  will  be  our  sense  of  sin. 

It  is  thus  that  the  scenes  in  the  Inferno  find 
their  most  vivid  colouring  when  we  see  them  in 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     123 

the  light  of  an  all-ministering  love.  Love  is 
the  measure  of  life  as  God  means  it  to  be  lived  : 
all  human  actions  can  only  be  rightly  measured 
by  their  relation  to  love  :  this  is  the  Christ-given 
standard  :  this  is  the  measure  of  true  Christian 
orthodoxy.  In  this  we  may  realise  how  much 
they  lose  who  measure  life  by  any  other  standard. 
Here  we  may  understand  that  heaven  is  where 
love  is,  and  hell  is  where  love  is  not.  And  where 
love  is  not,  God  is  not.  Only  lovelessness  can 
banish  us  from  His  presence.  It  is  not  God  who 
goes  far  from  us  :  it  is  we  who  go  from  Him. 
His  love  may  build  hell  that  we  may  learn  the 
awfulness  of  separation  from  Him  who  is  love. 
Yes,  we  may  even  go  down  into  hell  and  find 
Him  there,  as  we  realise  that  it  is  our  lovelessness 
which  sets  the  great  impassable  gulf  between  us 
and  Him.  The  penalties  which  wait  upon  wrong 
are  the  disciplines  of  love.  Better  a  thousand 
times  face  the  evil  and  bear  bravely  the  con- 
sequence of  our  wrong,  than  by  shirking  the  pain, 
set  our  hearts  farther  from  Him.  You  remember 
how  Socrates  once  asked  whether  it  was  not  the 
part  of  friendship  to  persuade  a  friend  to  face  the 
penalty  of  a  broken  law  rather  than  to  shirk  it. 
Certainly,  I  am  sure  that  it  is  better  to  look  frankly 
into  the  face  of  the  hell  now  than  to  seek  refuge 
in  pleasant  lies  and  enfeebling  sophistries  :  better 


i24    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

to  go  down  into  hell  here  and  now  than  to  find 
that  in  a  life  of  seductive  selfishness  and  chilling 
lovelessness  we  have,  like  Dives,  who  shirked 
unpleasant  truths,  been  fixing  a  great  and  im- 
passable gulf  between  ourselves  and  heaven. 

The  adage  of  ancient  wisdom,  "  Know  thyself," 
might  be  written  as  the  motto  of  the  Inferno. 
Hell  is  self-revelation — the  discovery  that  self- 
will  and  selfishness  enclose  within  us,  and  may 
quicken  into  activity,  forces  which  degrade  us  and 
which,  when  seen  in  the  light  of  some  heavenly 
vision,  make  us  unclean  and  hateful  in  our  own 
eyes.  When  the  vision  comes,  as  to  Job,  sublime 
in  the  pure  forces  of  illimitable  Nature,  or,  as  to 
St  Peter,  in  the  homely  providence  which  supplies 
the  need  of  the  critical  hour,  then  men  feel  not 
only  their  littleness  but  the  meanness  of  their 
spirit  of  distrust,  and  their  hearts1  cry  is  of  their 
own  shortcomings — like  the  Patriarch,  they  will 
cry,  "  I  abhor  myself  "  ;  or,  like  the  Apostle,  they 
will  confess,  "  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O  Lord."  In 
such  cases  it  is  self-revelation  which  is  effected, 
and  this  self-revelation  is  the  essential  element  of 
the  experience  of  hell. 

It  is,  therefore,  as  a  great  pageant  of  the  self- 
disclosures  of  evil  that  the  scenes  of  the  Inferno 
pass  before  us,  and  while  it  embraces  the  mani- 
festations of  the  ultimate  horror  of  all  kinds  of 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE       125 

wrong,  the  thread  which  guides  us  through  this 
labyrinth  of  the  intricate  pathways  of  wrong- 
doing is  the  personal  story  of  the  poet,  who  is 
both  the  author  and  the  subject  of  the  poem.  He 
too  had  to  go  down  into  hell,  and,  in  seeing  this 
terrible  disclosure  of  evil,  he  was  to  discover  him- 
self to  himself  :  and  therefore  to  realise  the  need 
of  that  spiritual  revolution  which  alters  the  centre 
of  gravity  of  our  being,  and  sets  our  feet  on  the 
upward  instead  of  the  downward  way. 

And  sometimes,  as  I  read  the  poem,  one 
reiterated  phrase  of  well-known  music  comes  back 
to  me  and  I  seem  to  hear  the  chorus,  amid 
the  glamour  of  various  sounds,  repeating  with 
pathetic  insistency — "  This  is  the  way,"  "  this  is 
the  way."  And  I  know  that,  though  it  leads 
through  regions  of  woe  and  flame  and  frost,  it  is 
often  the  way  of  God  for  men.  The  pathway  to 
heaven  may  lead  through  hell.  We  may  perhaps 
realise  that  a  profound  meaning  of  comfort  sleeps 
in  the  declaration  of  the  Creed :  "  He  went  down 
into  hell "  ;  for  now  it  is  true  if  He  went  down 
perchance  some  may  have  found  Him  there.  In 
a  larger  and  more  majestic  sense  than  the  Psalmist 
meant,  man  can  cry,  "  If  I  go  down  into  hell, 
Thou  art  there."  Yes,  He  is  with  me  in  my  hell 
that  1  may  yet  climb  upward  to  be  with  Him  in 
His  heaven. 


126    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Let  none  shrink  from  self-revealings.  Better, 
far  better,  that  here  and  now  we  should  know  the 
worst  about  ourselves  than  that  we  should  discover 
it  for  the  first  time  upon  the  threshold  of  the  other 
world  :  better,  since  all  must  go  down,  that  we 
should  taste  of  hell  and  find  that,  though  dread- 
ful, it  may  be  for  us  the  house  of  God  ;  for  the 
wonder  of  this  self-revelation  is  that  this  taste  of 
hell  may  be  to  us  the  foretaste  of  heaven.  It  is 
love  which  reveals  to  us  ourselves.  It  is  love 
which  sends  forth  the  pilgrim  to  search  out  and 
know  the  truth  about  evil. 

As  these  thoughts  become  ours,  and  we  under- 
stand that  this  hell  may  be  to  us  the  gateway  of 
heaven,  we,  with  truer  and  wider  outlook  than 
Dante  had,  may  subscribe  to  his  inscription  on  the 
portals  of  the  Inferno  : 

u  High  justice  moved  the  architect  above  : 

The  power  that  built  me  was  the  power  divine  : 
Wisdom  supreme  is  marked  in  every  line, 
And  over  all  there  broods  primeval  love." 

(Inf.  iii.  5-8.) 

Dante,  whose  horizon  was  that  of  his  age,  could 
not  behold  the  full  significance  of  the  love  in 
which  he  so  profoundly  believed,  but  we,  set  free 
from  the  misconceptions  into  which  a  rationalistic 
theology  had  plunged  the  Church,  may  enter  into 


RIGHTEOUSNESS  INEXORABLE     127 

the  restored  inheritance  of  Christian  liberty,  and 
rejoice  to  see  the  good  which  shines  above  evil, 
the  love  which  is  destined  to  conquer,  knowing 
that  "  the  loudest  thunders  of  conscience,  instead 
of  being  prophetic  of  endless  misery,  become  to 
us  the  sure  witnesses  of  an  untiring  love  which 
will  never  cease  its  efforts  to  separate  us  from 
all  evil."  How  pregnant,  in  the  light  of  this 
thought,  does  that  prayer  become  which  the  Lord 
of  love  taught  us  when  He  bade  us  say,  "  Our 
Father  which  art  in  heaven,  deliver  us  from  evil." 
Deliver  us  from  evil  at  whatever  cost  to  us,  O 
Father,  who  didst  not  spare  Thy  Son  for  our  sake. 
Deliver  us  from  evil,  yes,  even  if  Thou  dost  take 
us  into  hell  to  show  us  what  evil  really  means  ! 
By  Thy  love,  which  is  sternly  resolute  and  un- 
flinchingly faithful,  deliver  us  from  the  evil  that 
we  may  believe  in  and  live  by  the  good  alone. 


LECTURE    IV 

EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE 
("PURGATORIO") 

THE  spirit  of  hope  fills  the  Purgatorio.  We  feel 
its  breath  in  the  air  as  we  enter  this  new  realm  of 
the  divine  kingdom.  The  contrast  with  the  dark 
region  which  we  have  left  behind  meets  us  at 
every  turn.  The  darkness  of  night  brooded 
there  ;  but  the  tokens  of  the  dawn  greet  us  here. 
There  the  pilgrim  passed  downward  through  ever- 
narrowing  circles  till  the  final  frozen  prison-house 
was  reached  :  here  a  broad  and  luminous  horizon 
smiles,  and  the  great  and  wide  sea  before  his  eyes 
trembles  with  the  glad  thrill  of  morning.  There 
Lucifer's  disastrous  wings  generated  the  icy  blast : 
here  angels  with  happy  outstretched  wings  pilot 
the  boat  of  God's  redeemed  ones  towards  the 
pleasant  shore  of  hope.  There  every  step  was 
downward  :  here  a  heaven-pointing  hill  challenges 
the  travellers  to  climb  upwards.  There  doleful 

sounds  of  sorrow  and  lamentation  are  heard:  here 

128 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          129 

are  the  hymns  of  the  ancient  Church  :  the  song 
of  the  redeemed  Israel — "  In  exitu  Israel " — 
breaks  with  aspiring  voice  upon  the  ear.  The 
sorrow  that  endured  for  a  night  has  given  place 
to  the  joy  which  arouses  the  heart  :  the  spirit  of 
the  pilgrim  revives  :  the  freedom  which  he  went 
forth  to  seek  is  no  longer  impossible  :  happy 
omens  of  hope  encourage  him. 

First  perhaps  among  these  omens  is  the  sight 
of  the  planet  of  love  in  the  skies.  Venus  is  the 
morning  star  :  love  smiles  upon  the  enterprise. 
The  four  stars  of  the  Southern  Cross — emblems 
of  the  virtues — prudence,  fortitude,  justice,  and 
temperance — appear  in  the  heavens.  The  virtues 
of  the  soul  are  in  the  ascendant  :  the  true  aim 
and  purpose  of  life  are  restored.  The  heavens 
are  favourable  :  the  ideals  of  life  are  clearly  seen  ; 
but  is  the  spirit  willing  and  fit  ?  The  journey  is 
toilful  and  difficult  :  only  the  willing  and  ready 
soul  can  venture  upon  it. 

If  the  soul  has  discerned  its  fault,  if  the  soften- 
ing influences  of  true  contrition  have  passed  upon 
it,  then  the  pilgrim  may  move  forward  on  his 
path.  Therefore  is  the  pilgrim  girded  with  the 
pliant  and  continuously  growing  reed  of  humility  : 
therefore  too  must  his  face  be  cleansed  with  the 
fresh  dew  of  the  morning.  The  childlike  spirit — 
lowly  and  fresh  in  feeling — must  be  his. 

9 


130    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  Purgatorio  is  a  place  of  discipline,  and,  like 
all  places  of  discipline,  it  is  a  place  of  revelation 
also.  As  treated  by  Dante,  it  becomes  a  revela- 
tion of  his  thoughts  about  sin  and  freedom  and 
love.  I  The  star  of  love  shines  at  the  beginning  : 
the  spirit  of  love  triumphs  at  the  close  ;  but 
meanwhile  the  discipline  of  the  moral  nature  must 
go  forward  if  true  freedom  is  to  be  won. 

The  first  discipline  of  the  moral  nature  comes 
in  the  form  of  a  number  of  tests  of  the  genuine- 
ness of  the  moral  purpose.  "  Are  your  minds 
set  upon  righteousness  ? "  asked  the  Psalmist  ; 
and  the  question  confronts  the  pilgrims  as  they 
journey  through  the  Ante-purgatory. 

Innocent  attractions  tempt  the  pilgrims  to 
delay.  How  natural  it  was  that  Dante  should 
linger  when  he  met  Casella  ;  how  natural  that 
they  should  revive  old  memories  and  once  more 
find  joy  in  the  song  so  dear  to  both  of  them  ! 
So  Dante  asks  Casella  to  sing. 

"  Thee  may  it  please  to  comfort  therewithal 
Somewhat  this  soul  of  mine." 

Hope  and  love  are  pleasant  companions  on  the 
road,  but  they  are  not  fitting  substitutes  for  active 
energy  of  soul.  This  lingering  to  listen  to  sweet 
words  is  in  little  harmony  with  the  earnest  and 
resolute  spirit  which  ought  to  mark  the  pilgrim. 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          131 

So  Cato's  rebuke  breaks  in  upon  the  rapt  attention 
of  the  dilatory  souls  : 

"  What  is  this,  ye  laggard  spirits  ? 
What  negligence,  what  standing  still  is  this  ? 
Run  to  the  mountain  to  strip  off  the  slough 
That  lets  not  God  be  manifest  to  you." 

(Purg.  ii.  120-123.) 

The  pleasant  seduction  of  old  friends  and  well- 
loved  songs  must  be  resisted  :  these  things  are 
tests  of  earnestness  of  purpose. 

So  also  are  the  steepness  and  difficulty  of  the 
first  stages  of  the  ascent.  Here,  as  always,  the 
earlier  steps  are  the  hard  ones.  Providence  tests 
men  by  making  the  first  stages  of  all  worthy 
enterprises  difficult.  The  pilgrims  have  to  search 
for  some  gap  through  which  to  commence  climb- 
ing the  arduous  hill. 

u  We  came  meanwhile  unto  the  mountain's  foot ; 
There  so  precipitate  we  found  the  rock, 
That  nimble  legs  would  there  have  been  in  vain. 
'Twixt  Lerici  and  Turbia,  the  most  desert, 
The  most  secluded  pathway  is  a  stair 
Easy  and  open,  if  compared  with  that." 

(Purg.  iii.  46-5L ) 

At  last  a  tiny  gap,  no  wider  than  a  forkful  of 
thorns  would  fill  up,  in  a  hedge  is  found  ;  and  the 
hard  ascent  is  begun. 


132    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  ascent  is  difficult,  but  not  all  the  spirits 
who  find  themselves  in  the  Purgatory  can  com- 
mence their  pilgrimage.  Those  only  who  are 
ripe  and  fit  may  go  forward.  Some  souls  are 
met  doomed  to  wait  till  the  hour  of  their  fitness 
comes.  Men  cannot  here  and  now  begin  to 
mount  higher  :  they  must,  before  they  can  climb, 
"  make  stepping-stones  of  their  dead  selves." 
Dispositions — fit  and  genuine  dispositions — cannot 
come  at  will.  This  is  the  mysterious  truth  men 
so  often  forget.  "  I  will  repent  some  day," 
whispers  the  self-deceiving  soul  to  itself.  But 
who  can  command  the  dispositions  of  the  soul  ? 
We  cannot  deal  with  the  delicate  mechanism  of 
the  spirit  as  we  can  with  material  things.  The 
soul  is  an  organism  which  grows,  and  what  it  will 
be  at  a  particular  epoch — who  can  tell  ?  The 
only  certain  thing  is,  that  whatever  it  may  be  at 
that  epoch,  it  will  certainly  not  be  that  which  it  is 
now.  It  will  have  moved  :  with  its  movement 
it  will  possess  different  moods.  The  only  day 
which  is  truly  ours  is  to-day.  We  may  have  to 
wait  long  before  the  fitting  mood,  the  single- 
hearted  wish  for  better  and  higher  things,  is  ours. 
Many  must  wander,  waiting  among  the  lower 
spurs  of  the  great  mountain  of  moral  endeavour, 
as  the  sick  and  stricken  at  Bethesda  waited  for 
the  moving  of  the  waters. 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          133 

What  is  wanted  is  the  true  and  genuine  will  \ 
to  repent.     It  is  vain  for  the  pilgrim  to  present 
himself  at  the  gate  till  the  spirit  is  ripe  for  theA. 
discipline   and    teaching   which   awaits    it.L     The\ 
chastening  of  the  Lord  is  for  those  whose  spirits 
are  in  tune  with  the  divine  will.     Hence  in  the    <O 

—-~      .—-—          '—- •*  ^~^^S 

Ante-purgatory  we  meet  with  different  excuses 
given  for  delay  in  repentance.  The  cares  of  king- 
ship, the  mental  indolence  which  acquiesces  in  low 
conventional  standards  of  life,  the  general  readiness 
to  follow  the  path  of  least  resistance,  and  the 
moral  injury  of  ignoring  the  pleadings  of  con- 
science are  among  the  causes  of  slackness  of  will. 
Where  this  slackness  prevails  the  soul  is  not 
truly  ripe  for  pursuing  its  upward  journey. 

With  a  change  in  the  soul  there  comes  a  change 
in  environment.  In  the  Ante-purgatory,  where 
the  soul  is  outside  the  gateway,  disturbances  of 
Nature  are  met  which  hinder  the  pilgrim.  Snow 
and  sleet  may  fall  and  delay  him  ;  but  once  the 
gateway  is  past,  Nature  offers  no  hindrance. 
The  face  of  the  sky  reflects  the  state  of  the 
pilgrim's  soul.  We  make  our  own  heaven  as 
we  make  our  own  fortune  :  the  sullen  heaven  is 
often  but  the  reflection  of  our  own  gloomy 
spirits. 

"  Our  remedies  oft  in  ourselves  do  lie, 
Which  we  ascribe  to  heaven  :  the  fated  sky 


134    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Gives  us  free  scope  ;  only  doth  backward  pull 
Our  slow  designs,  when  we  ourselves  are  dull." 
(Alts  Well  that  Ends  Well,  Act  I.  Sc.  i.) 

We  may  recall  the  words  of  the  sacred  writer 
who  reminds  us  that  circumstances  help  the 
trustful  and  courageous  soul.  "  All  things  work 
together  for  good  to  them  that  love  God." 

The  Ante-purgatory  sets  forth  in  picturesque 
fashion  the  conditions  preliminary  to  the  effective 
pilgrimage  upward.  The  pilgrim  is  going  in 
search  of  liberty  (C.  i.  71)  ;  the  liberty,  however, 
is  that  high  and  true  liberty — liberty  within  the 
soul  :  it  is  the  liberty  which  means  that  man  is  to 
be  true  lord  of  himself  :  it  can  be  the  possession 
of  those  only  who  have  learned  self-mastery. 
The  first  condition  for  such  freedom  is  the  earnest 

desire  to  be  free.     It  is 

u  The  door 

Which  the  perverted  love  of  souls  disuses, 
Because  it  makes  the  crooked  way  seem  straight." 

Some    shun  the  gate  :    an  evil  love    turns    them 
aside  :  they  shirk  the  discipline  for 

"  Che  il  malo  amor  dell'  anime  disusa, 
Perche  fa  parer  dritta  la  via  torta." 

(Purg.  x.  1-3.) 

Slackness  of  soul  under  such  circumstances  means 
halting  desire  :  there  is  no  freedom  save  for  those 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          135 

who  mean  to  be  free.  To  such,  difficulties  on 
the  road  are  challenges  to  fresh  endeavour.  The 
heights  must  be  scaled  "  with  toil  of  heart  and 
knees  and  hands."  The  pilgrims  set  on  such 
lofty  enterprise  must  "  wink  no  more  in  slothful 
overtrust."  They  must  thirst  to  meet  the 
discipline  which  will  bring  them  freedom.  Like 
athletes  who  desire  self-sovereignty,  the  very  pain 
of  arduous  exercises  will  be  sweet  to  them. 

To  such  nothing  comes  amiss  :  all  which  comes, 
even  hardship  and  humiliation,  brings  the  growing 
capacity  for  liberty.  None  can  hope  to  pass  the 
gate  who  do  not  possess  this  fitness  of  the 
earnestly  courageous  spirit,  which,  knowing  the 
supreme  value  of  this  high  liberty,  is  ready  to 
endure  pains  and  penalties  to  secure  it. 

The  pilgrims,  however,  are  not  left  unhelped  or 
unprotected  even  in  the  Ante-purgatory.  God's 
angels  are  at  hand.  The  pilgrims  stand  in  need  of 
heavenly  help.  The  subtle  power  of  old  sins  can 
make  itself  felt,  especially  in  the  hours  of  darkness 
when  the  watchfulness  of  the  soul  relaxes  as  sleep 
draws  near.  Then  ill  dreams  may  disturb  the 
rest,  and  the  tyranny  of  some  soul-staining  habit 
may  assert  itself.  Like  a  gliding  serpent,  evil 
may  then  seek  to  thrust  itself  into  the  pleasant 
valley  of  rest  (C.  viii.).  But  the  pilgrim  sees  the 
guardians  descending  : 


136    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

"  .  .  .  Two  angels  with  two  flaming  swords, 
Truncated  and  deprived  of  their  points," 

(Purg.  viii.  26,  27.) 

appear,  and  drive  off'  the  invading  serpent. 

As  heavenly  help  drives  away  the  power  of  evil 
dreams,  so  does  its  grace  bring  dreams  of  good. 
The  soul  protected  from  the  invasion  of  evil 
imaginings  can,  as  sleep  draws  near,  direct  its 
thoughts  to  heavenly  things  :  divine  light  meets 
its  aspirations  and  lifts  the  soul  as  upon  eagle's 
wings  heavenward  in  desire.  Such  seems  to  me 
the  significance  of  Lucia  and  the  eagle  (C.  ix.)  : 
even  in  the  early  days  of  Christian  pilgrimage  it 
is  possible  for  the  awakened  soul  to  rise  above  the 
lower  levels  of  thought  and  to  mount  up  as  with 
eagle  flight  towards  the  higher  ranges  of  the 
Mount  of  God.  Borne,  thus  in  sleep,  Dante  is 
brought  close  to  the  gateway  of  the  Purgatory 
proper. 

The  ceremonials  of  the  gate  are  full  of  sym- 
bolism ;  and  the  poet  fortifies  his  theme  with 
"greater  art"  (C.  ix.  71,  72).  The  pilgrims  saw 
what  seemed  a  narrow  rift  through  a  wall.  The 
approach  to  the  gate  is  not  by  the  broad  way  which 
leads  to  destruction.  As  they  approached  they 
saw  the  portal,  and  "  a  gatekeeper  who  yet  spake 
no  word."  The  gatekeeper  held  in  his  hand  a 
naked  sword  ;  he  was  seated  upon  a  diamond-like 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          137 

throne.  Three  steps  led  to  this  throne.  The 
lowest  step  was  "  marble-white,  polished  and 
smooth":  the  second,  "of  deeper  hue  than  perse," 

"Was  of  a  calcined  and  uneven  stone, 
Cracked  all  asunder  lengthwise  and  across." 

The  third  appeared  like  porphyry  as  flaming  red, 

"  As  blood  that  from  a  vein  is  spirting  forth." 

(Purg.  ix.  98,  99,  102.) 

The  simplest  interpretation  of  this  symbolism  is 
the  best.  Here,  as  it  seems  to  me,  the  attempt  to 
introduce  political  significance  is  incongruous  and 
wholly  at  variance  with  Dante's  spirit,  who,  when 
dealing  with  the  deepest  personal  experiences  of 
the  soul,  keeps  aloof  from  politics.  The  three 
steps  symbolise  what  might  have  been,  what  has 
been,  and  what  must  be,  if  what  might  have  been 
js  to  be  realised.  Life's  innocence  is  stained  by 
sin,  and  the  violence  of  passion,  like  fire,  cracks 
and  blackens  and  mars  its  fair  surface.  Only  by 
sacrifice  can  ancient  purity  be  won.  Some  new, 
and  nobler  passion  must  triumph  over  the  passions/ 
which  have  disfigured  and  half  destroyed  life] 
The  only  passion  capable  of  such  a  triumph  is 
self-sacrificing  love.  Here,  therefore,  upon  the 
threshold  of  Purgatory  the  sign  of  redemption  is 
written.  As  upon  the  lintels  of  the  houses  of 
the  Israelites  at  the  Passover  crisis  the  blood  of 


138    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

sacrifice  was  sprinkled,  so  here  at  this  gateway, 
which  is  the  threshold  of  deliverance,  the  symbol 
of  love's  victory  may  be  seen. 

And  here  more  clearly  than  elsewhere  may  sin 
be  known  to  be  sin  :  here  the  pilgrim  will  know 
it  and  feel  it  as  never  before.  He  kneels  and  the 
porter  at  the  gate  marks  upon  his  brow  with  the 
sword  point  seven  P's — wounds,  happy  wounds, 
are  these  upon  his  forehead  ;  wounds  wholesome 
as  the  frank  and  honest  recognition  of  wrong  ; 
wounds  that  will  be  washed  away  as  the  pilgrim 
climbs  upward. 

Then  the  golden  key  and  the  silver  key  are  used 

to  open  the  gate.     First  the  silver  key,  which,  if 

less  precious,  needs  "  more  art  and  intellect,"  is 

employed  to  unlock  the  door.     The  golden  key 

is  the  key  of  divine  pardon  :  the  silver  is  the  key 

of  spiritual  discernment.     The  key  of  pardon  is 

j !  gold  and  stands  for  love  :  the  other  is  the  key  of 

I  knowledge,  even  skill  and  insight,  to  judge  whether 

the  soul  is  ripe  for  this  spiritual  pilgrimage.     To 

"  wield  the  golden  key  alone  is  of  little  service  :  it 

is  the  silver  key  which  doth   the   knot   unloose 

(C.  ix.   126).     This  is  in  harmony  with  Dante's 

other  declaration  (Inf.  xxvii.  1 1 8)  : 

"  Naught  but  repentance  ever  can  absolve." 
So  with  the  clear  acknowledgment  of  sin  written 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          139 

upon  his  brow,  the  pilgrim  prepares  to  pass 
through  the  gate.  The  angel  guardian  utters  the 
warning  against  looking  back.  The  gates  are 
pushed  open,  and  as  they  turn  upon  their  hinges 
they  give  forth  a  harsh  and  grating  sound  loud  as 
thunder.  It  is  the  moaning  protest  of  reluctant  sin, 
heard  like  the  cry  of  the  demoniac  when  the  Great 
Healer  of  men  bade  the  evil  spirits  depart.  If 
sin  makes  itself  heard,  protesting  as  it  were  against 
the  opening  of  the  gateway  of  the  soul's  deliver- 
ance, heavenly  music  is  also  heard — the  voices  of 
glad  souls  singing  the  Te  Deum  of  praise  that 
another  soul  has  entered  upon  the  homeward 
path.  Thenceforward  the  real  work  of  the  pilgrim 
in  Purgatory  begins.  He  enters  upon  the  path 
of  serious  self-discipline  :  he  submits  willingly  to 
the  exercises  needful  for  his  purgation. 

There  are  three  ways  in  which  sin  may  be  re- 
garded. It  may  be  regarded  as  an  abiding  fact — 
an  act  done,  which  not  even  omnipotence  can 
undo  :  in  this  light  it  is  a  stain  upon  the  divine 
purity  of  things.  The  act  cannot  be  undone,  but 
the  stain  may  be  blotted  out.  Forgiveness  is 
needed  for  acts  such  as  these.  But  sin  is  also  a 
violation  of  the  divine  order  :  it  is  something 
which  has  set  at  work  laws  which  are  unfailing  in 
operation  :  every  act  is  followed  by  consequences, 
and  there  is  no  escape  from  the  consequences  of 


140    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

our  wrong-doing.  "Whatsoever  a  man  soweth 
that  shall  he  reap."  God  does  not  let  us  off  the 
penalty,  though  He  may  forgive  the  sin.  There 
is  a  third  aspect  of  sin.  It  is  a  symptom  of  a 
spirit  which  is  not  in  full  harmony  with  the  divine 
order  :  it  is  the  sign  of  what  we  may  call  spiritual 
disease.  This  is  a  condition  of  the  soul,  and  from 
this  the  soul  needs  to  be  set  free.  There  is  the 
need  of  inward  purification. 

The  pilgrim  who  enters  the  gate  of  Purgatory 
enters  as  a  forgiven  soul.  His  pardon  has  been 
pronounced,  but  pardon  does  not  free  from 
penalty.  The  soul  has  learned  that  the  impulse 
to  flee  and  hide  from  God  is  a  vain  one.  The 
vision  of  the  Inferno  has  shown  that  there  is  no 
escape  from  the  hand  of  omnipotent  love.  The 
penitent  soul  flees  to  God.  He  will  not  hide 
from  God  :  he  will  hide  in  God  :  he  will  accept 
the  penalty  of  his  wrong-doing — nay,  the  spirit 
which  animates  him  is  a  spirit  which  seeks  will- 
ingly to  face  the  consequences  of  his  fault.  His 
will  is  one  with  the  divine  will  :  he  surrenders 
himself  to  God,  though  God  may  be  a  consuming 
fire,  for  his  soul  longs  for  purification. 

In  the  Pur  gat orio  therefore  we  meet  scenes  in 

which  the  penalty  of  consequence  falls  upon  the 

wrong-doer.       In    this   the   Purgatorio    resembles 

v      the   Inferno  :   sin    meets    with    its   consequences ; 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          141 

but  the  difference  between  the  two  realms  arises 
from  the  different  spirit  which  prevails  among  the 
sufferers.  In  the  Inferno  we  see  the  penalty  as  it 
falls  on  those  whose  will  is  still  one  with  the  sin. 
In  the  Purgatorio  the  penalty  falls  on  those  who 
are  eager  to  be  set  free  from  the  dominion  of 
their  sin.  The  sinners  in  the  Inferno  would  fain 
be  free  to  sin  :  the  souls  in  the  Purgatorio  long 
to  be  freed  from  the  servitude  of  sin.  For  such 
souls  the  penalty  becomes  a  purifying  power. 
This  kind  of  spirit  is  illustrated  in  Mr  G.  B. 
Burgin's  novel,  The  Vision  of  Balmaine.  The 
readiness  to  bear  the  penalty  becomes  a  remedial 
power  and  acts  with  invigorating  and  elevating 
effects  upon  the  character.  It  is  well  to  mark  the 
inner  significance  of  the  Divina  Commedia^  for  the 
spiritual  significance  often  furnishes  the  key  of 
the  outward  form. 

The  discipline  of  the  Purgatorio  therefore  [ 
becomes  a  training  in  self-mastery.  The  penalties 
exacted  are  appropriate  to  the  fault,  and  the 
exercises  are  graduated,  if  we  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, so  as  to  produce  right  conditions.  Like 
the  exercises  at  Nauheim,  they  are  calculated  to 
restore  the  full  and  normal  action  of  the  heart, 
and  to  give  that  facility  of  self-government  which 
is  perfect  freedom. 

We  may  note  the  way  in  which  the  penalties 


i42    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

are   regulated    to    meet   the    varying    needs    of 
different  souls. 

/The  seven  sins  dealt  with  are  pride,  envy,  anger, 
gloom  or  lukewarmness,  avarice,  gluttony,  lust. 
We  note  at  once  that  the  first  three  and  the  last 
three  may  be  grouped  together.  Pride,  envy, 
anger  are  faults  of  the  spirit  :  they  show  them- 
selves in  emotions  ;  ^avarice,  gluttony,  lust  are 
passions  of  action.  Between  these  two  groups 
stands  lukewarmness  or  gloom  :  this  is  the  tran- 
sitional fault.  It  is  the  mood  which  may  bring 
about  faults  worse  than  itself.  We  may  recall  that 
in  the  Inferno  also  the  spirit  of  gloomy  discontent 
holds  a  similar  transitional  place  between  the  sins 
of  the  flesh  and  those  of  deeper  spiritual  force. 

Many  have  sought  to  bring  the  catalogue  of 
sins  in  the  Purgatorio  into  harmony  with  that  in 
the  Inferno.  It  may  be  possible  to  do  so,  al- 
though the  absence  of  pride  among  the  sins  of 
the  Inferno  constitutes  a  difficulty.  But  is  it 
necessary  to  bring  about  such  a  harmony  ?  The 
order  and  arrangement  in  each  case  is  fitted  to  the 
poet's  purpose.  His  object  in  the  Inferno  is  to 
depict  sin  revealing  itself  in  its  true  and  hateful 
meaning  :  his  object  in  the  Purgatorio  is  to 
exhibit  the  fitting  discipline  of  sin.  In  the  one 
case  it  is  the  manifestation  of  sin.  In  the  other 
it  is  its  purification. 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          143 

Hence  the  order  in  which  sins  are  presented  is 
reversed  in  the  Purgatorio. 

In  the  Inferno  he  wished  to  show  how  evil  a 
thing  sin  is,  to  show  vice  its  own  image  ;  he  takes 
sins  therefore  which  in  their  very  activity  on  earth 
had  shown  how  evil  they  were,  and  he  seeks  in 
the  vivid  picturing  of  the  Inferno  to  paint  them 
in  all  their  ugly  consequences  to  the  sinner  and 
to  the  world.  But  in  the  Purgatorio  his  aim  is 
different  :  he  does  not  now  wish  merely  to  unveil 
evil ;  he  is  thinking  how  its  very  roots  may  be 
destroyed.  The  sphere,  towards  which  his  gaze  is 
directed  now,  is  not  the  great  world  of  men  and  of 
their  responsible  activities  ;  it  is  now  into  the 
spirit  of  man  that  he  looks  :  how  may  the  spirit 
be  purged  ?  The  root  of  bitterness  is  there.  He 
seizes  on  one  great  principle,  which  perverted  or 
weakened  or  over-stimulated  may  work  evil  in  the 
soul,  and  he  seeks  to  show  how  these  maladies  of 
the  spirit  may  be  healed,  and,  as  a  result,  he  deals 
with  sin  in  its  inward  and  spiritual  aspect  chiefly. 
He  does  not  need  therefore  to  make  excursions 
into  the  realms  of  consequence  as  he  does  in  the 
Inferno.  He  is  not  now  dealing  on  a  large  scale 
with  the  great  law  of  retribution  ;  he  is  dealing 
with  spiritual  disorder.  In  the  Inferno  he  is 
looking  at  human  life  and  conduct  with  the  eye 
of  a  judge  :  in  the  Purgatorio  he  is  looking  with 


i44    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

the  eye  of  a  physician  who  desires  to  heal  the 
diseases  of  the  soul. 

The  real  harmony  between  the  two  lists  lies  in 
human  nature,  and  in  the  way  in  which  sin 
develops  or  sinfulness  can  be  counteracted.  In 
the  Inferno ,  as  we  descend,  the  sins  increase  in 
gravity  :  they  begin  with  sins  of  impulse  :  they 
go  on  to  sins  of  discontent,  leading  to  sins  of 
recklessness  and  violence,  and  culminating  in  sins 
deliberate  and  craftily  designed  and  treacherously 
executed.  It  shows  the  downward  progress  of 
the  soul — falling  first  through  unguarded  moments 
and  at  length  clasping  evil  as  its  good.  In  the 
PurgatoriOy  the  seat  of  evil  in  the  spirit  is  first 
dealt  with  :  the  purgation  moves  from  the  centre 
of  man's  being  outward  :  the  wave  of  purifying 
power  moves  in  ever-widening  circle  till  man's 
whole  being  is  embraced  by  its  influence. 

Hence  in  the  Purgatorio  sins  are  presented  in 
an  order  the^reverse  of  that  in  the  Inferno. 

The  sins  which  may  be  called  sins  of  the  flesh 
stand  first  in  the  Inferno  :  they  come  last  in  the 
Purgatorio.  And  rightly  so  ;  for  to  bring  about 
perfect  purification  the  inward  disposition  must 
first  be  attacked.  There  is  no  purification  of  life 
or  habits  of  life,  without  purification  of  the  soul 
within.  Hence  the  soul  must  be  liberated  from 
the  evil  dispositions  of  pride,  envy,  and  anger,  as 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          145 

these  so  often  become  the  incentives  of  the  baser 
passions.  Avarice  may  be  generated  through 
envy,  and  lust  may  build  her  shrine  "  hard  by 
hate."  However  this  may  be,  the  inward  dis- 
positions must  first  be  regulated  in  order  that  the 
spirit  may  regain  its  rightful  ascendancy  over  the 
realm  of  its  being. 

Further,  the  relation  between  the  various  faults 
is  set  forth  by  their  connection  with  a  common 
root.  Dante's  exposition  in  the  seventeenth  canto 
tells  us  that,  in  his  view,  a  perverted  form  of  love 
leads  to  all  the  faults  that  are  expiated  in  the 
Purgatorio. 

To  understand  this  we  must  anticipate  and 
become  auditors  of  the  conversation  which  takes 
place  later  on,  but  which  is  better  considered 
here,  for  it  sets  forth  how  love  enters  into  the 
discipline  of  this  second  realm. 

We  must  ascend  to  the  fourth  cornice,  for  it 
is  at  the  entrance  of  this — the  middle  point  of 
pilgrimage — that  Virgil  gives  an  exposition  of 
the  relationship  between  the  various  sins  here 
chastened. 

In  the  terraces  beneath,  and  in  those  above, 
the  faults  are  those  which  give  rise  to  sins  of 
action.  Pride,  envy,  and  anger  are  seldom 
passive  :  these  are  purged  below.  Avarice, 

gluttony,  lust,  these  are  essentially  active  in  their 

10 


146    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

nature  :  these  are  purged  above.  The  middle 
circle  deals,  and  alone  deals,  with  a  fault  passive 
in  its  nature  :  it  is  like  a  point  of  rest  between 
two  lines  of  activity  :  it  is  the  equinox  of  faults  : 
those  beneath  and  those  above  are  active  in  their 
nature,  but  active  in  different  directions.  Pride, 
envy,  and  anger  are  active  in  the  soul  :  their  range 
of  injury  is  within  the  spirit  first,  whatever  out- 
ward injury  they  may  inflict  upon  others  later. 
Avarice,  gluttony,  lust  are  eager  to  seize  upon 
what  is  material  :  their  outlook  is  on  the  physical 
world  and  their  first  range  of  injury  is  upon 
things  external.  The  line  of  their  advance  is 
through  the  material  world,  whatever  injury  they 
may  later  bring  upon  the  spirit  within.  They  move 
into  a  different  hemisphere  from  the  more  spiritual 
passions  of  pride,  envy,  and  anger.  The  ecliptic 
line  from  the  passions  of  the  spirit  to  the  passions  of 
a  more  material  order  passes  through  the  negative 
point,  where  the  fault  is  slothful  indifference. 

If  we  keep  this  point  in  mind  we  shall  be  the 
better  able  to  understand  the  exposition  which 
Virgil  gives,  and  we  may  also  be  in  a  position  to 
apprehend  the  principle  which  underlies  Dante's 
treatment  and  classification  of  sins  both  in  the 
Purgatorio  and  in  the  Inferno. 

We  can  now  take  our  place  beside  Dante  :  we 
find  him  resting,  as  a  tired  man  might,  and  en- 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          147 

in  conversation  with  his  guide.  He  is 
half-way  through  his  wonderful  pilgrimage  in  a 
double  sense — he  has  left  the  Inferno  behind  : 
the  Paradiso  is  still  in  front  of  him.  He  is  in  the 
PurgatoriO)  the  realm  of  his  central  experiences, 
and  he  is  in  the  very  midst  of  his  experiences 
there.  He  has  reached  the  fourth  circuit  of  the 
hill,  three  terraces  have  been  surmounted,  three 
more  lie  above  him.  At  this  mid-point  of  his 
journey  he  felt  his  strength  failing  him  : 

u  O  virtu  mia,  perchfc  si  ti  dilegue  ? 
Fra  me  stesso  dicea,  chfe  mi  sentiva 
La  possa  delle  gambe  posta  in  tregue." 

(Purg.  xvii.  73-75-) 

Night  was  upon  them  :  the  day  has  been  one 
of  strenuous  fatigue.  In  the  night  their  journey- 
ing must  cease  ;  but,  though  wearied  in  body, 
Dante  is  yet  keen  to  learn  :  the  time  of  oppor- 
tunity for  enlightening  converse  has  come.  Their 
position  is,  to  use  Dante's  image,  like  that  of  a 
ship  which  has  dropped  anchor  and  awaits  the 
morning,  when  it  can  cross  the  harbour-bar  :  the 
little  barque  of  his  genius,  as  he  called  it  (Purg. 
i.  2),  can  now  ride  in  safe  waters.  As  they  must 
wait,  let  the  time  not  be  lost ;  though  the  feet 
tarry,  let  not  learning  stand  still. 

"  Se  i  pie  si  stanno,  non  stea  tuo  sermone." 

(Purg.  xvii.  84.) 


148    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Thus  Dante  makes  an  opportunity  for  enlarg- 
ing upon  his  conception  of  love  and  expounding 
its  wide-reaching  power. 

It  is  the  fitting  place  for  such  an  exposition. 
Let  us  recall  the  significance  of  this  middle 
cornice  on  the  Mountain  of  Purgatory.  It  is  the 
circuit  in  which  the  sin  called  accidia  (Purg.  xviii. 
132)  is  purged  away  :  it  is  the  vice  of  slothful 
indifference,  reluctance  to  put  forth  effort,  the 
state  of  mind  to  which  no  stimulus  of  outward 
circumstance  or  of  noble  imagination  seems  to 
appeal.  This  middle  vice  of  the  Purgatorio  corre- 
sponds to  the  middle  vice  of  the  Inferno^  for  in 
the  fifth  circle  in  which  the  gloomy  and  discon- 
tented souls  were  confined  in  the  murky  waters 
of  the  Styx  :  the  incentives  of  fleshly  and  worldly 
passions  no  longer  appealed  to  them,  and,  sceptical 
of  pleasure,  they  lacked  the  energy  which  led  other 
souls  to  reckless  defiance  of  God's  order  or  violence 
against  it  (Inf.  ix.-xv.).  These  souls  had  their 
doom  in  the  gloomy  waters,  buried  away  from 
the  pleasant  light  of  the  sun  :  they  were  stagnant 
beings  thrust  into  stagnant  waters.  Their  fault 
was  anger  and  indolence.  Here  in  the  Purgatorio 
the  similar  fault  of  slothful  indifference  is  purged, 
not  by  an  enforced  inaction  but  by  compelled 
activity  :  the  souls  are  impelled  to  ceaseless  move- 
ment, they  are  all  seen  running,  and  as  they  go 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          149 

they  cry  out  words  of  haste — "  Haste,  haste  to 
waste  not  time."  And  here  Dante  makes  Virgil 
the  exponent  of  his  views. 

Virgil's  exposition  of  sins  purged  in  the  Purga- 
torio  starts  with  a  central  idea,  viz.  love.  Love 
is  a  necessary  possession  of  all.  All  have  this 
capacity  of  love,  Creator  and  creature  alike : 

cc  c  Ne  creator,  ne  creatura  mai,' 

Comminci6  ei,  c  figliuol,  fu  senza  amore.' " 

(Purg.  xvii.  91—92.) 

Here  is  the  first  proposition  laid  down.  This 
proposition  is  enlarged  in  the  next  line,  which 
shows  the  twofold  quality  of  love  :  love  may  be 
natural  or  rational  : 

"  O  naturale,  o  d'  animo  :  e  tu  il  sai." 

(Purg.  xvii.  93.) 

Natural  love  is  harmless  always  : 

u  Lo  natural  e  sempre  senza  errore." 

(Purg.  xvii.  94.) 

The  evil  comes  in  when  the  love  is  a  love 
d'  animo.  Natural  affection  if  left  to  itself  is 
always  free  from  error,  but  the  other  love  may 
land  us  in  wrong,  and  that  in  three  ways  :  it  may 
fasten  upon  a  wrong  object,  or  it  may  be  lacking 
in  vigour,  or  it  may  be  vigorous  overmuch  : 


150    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

"  Ma  T  altro  puote  errar  per  malo  obbietto, 
O  per  poco,  o  per  troppo  di  vigore." 

(Purg.  xvii.  95,  96.) 

When  love  moves  along  the  line  of  Nature,  and 
when  it  is  kept  within  fitting  limits,  being  neither 
defective  nor  excessive,  all  is  well  ;  but  when  it 
is  twisted  in  a  wrong  direction,  or  when,  without 
being  diverted  to  evil  objects,  it  shows  itself  slack 
or  unrestrained  in  the  pursuit  of  good,  then  evil 
comes,  for  the  creature  is  then  working  against 
the  Creator  : 

"  Ma  quando  al  mal  si  torce,  o  con  piii  cura, 
O  con  men  che  non  dee  corre  nel  bene, 
Contra  il  fattore  adopra  sua  fattura." 

(Purg.  xvii.  100-102.) 

The  conclusion  to  which  Virgil  directs  Dante 

then  is  clear.    (Love  is  found  to  be  the  source  of 

all  good  and  eVil  in  man.     It  is  a  power  in  his 

being,  and  according  to  its  direction  and  its  use  is 

the  measure  of  the  man's  Iife7\   "  Tell  me  how  a 

man  loves  and  I  will  tell  you  his  worth  "  might  be 

made  the  summary  of  Virgil's  exposition.     The 

universe  is  never  without  love  :  there  is  no  other 

/beginning  of  things  than  this.     Love  built  even 

|  hell  :  love  is  the  atmosphere  of  heaven  :  love  is 

<  the  measure  of  man  upon  earth. 

When  we  have  fixed  in  our  minds  this  principle, 
we  shall  be  able  to  enter  more  completely  into  the 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          151 

scenes  of  the  Purgatorlo.  The  first  three  terraces 
show  us  the  purgatorial  process  against  pride, 
envy,  and  anger.  These  faults  are,  according  to 
Dante,  examples  of  twisted  and  distorted  love. 
No  man  hates  himself,  and  no  man  wills  to  hate 
God,  but  love  distorted  may  wish  ill  to  his 
neighbour.  Pride  seeks  to  lower  others,  because 
it  seeks  to  raise  self.  The  wish  to  exalt  self  leads 
to  the  wish  to  see  one's  neighbour  humbled. 
The  presence  of  pride  discloses  itself  in  subtle 
and  unexpected  ways.  Why  do  we  take  pleasure 
in  our  neighbour's  misfortunes  ?  Is  not  the 
strange  sensation  of  satisfaction  which  we  feel  the 
pulse  of  our  unsubdued  pride  ?  This  uncanny 
but  pleasing  thrill  is  the  wicked  chuckle  of  our 
pride.  On  this  platform  stands  La  Roche- 
foucauld's cynical  saying  :  u  We  have  all  enough 
patience  to  bear  our  neighbour's  misfortunes.^ 
"  Pride,"  as  Thomas  Aquinas  writes,  "is  said  to  be 
the  love  of  our  own  excellence,  in  so  far  that  out 
of  love  arises  an  overweening  presumption 
our  right  to  overtop  others,  which  fitly  belong 
to  pride."1 

The  next  step  is  envy,  which  Benvenuto  da 
Imola  calls  the  daughter  of  pride.  The  fear  of 
losing  one's  importance  or  place  in  the  esteem  of 

1  Summ.  TheoL,  Pt.  II.,  2da,  qu.  clxii.,  art.  3,  quoted  in 
Vernon's  Purgatorio,  vol.  ii.  p.  63,  3rd  ed. 


152    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

the  world  makes  us  dread  the  good  fortune  of 
others.  Pride  can  take  pleasure  in  the  misfortunes 
of  others  because  it  can  be  complacent  in  its  own 
security  ;  but  pride  begets  envy  when  the  star  of 
others  is  in  the  ascendant,  for  fear  then  points  at 
the  occultation  of  our  own  star.  Pride  looks  with 
pleased  eye  upon  another's  fall  :  envy  looks  with 
the  eye  of  dislike  upon  another's  rise.  So  much 
is  envy  distressed  by  the  good  fortune  of  another 
that  at  last  it  begins  to  appear  as  a  positive  injury, 
and  a  justifiable  cause  of  anger.  Thus  anger  may 
be  the  daughter  of  envy,  as  envy  is  the  daughter 
of  pride — so  closely  are  these  three — pride,  envy, 
and  anger — related  to  one  another. 

Now,  these  three  are  all  sins  within  the  soul  : 
they  are  infirmities  of  the  heart  :  distortions  of 
love,  according  to  Dante,  and  they  must  be  dealt 
with  first  of  all  in  the  process  of  spiritual  purgation. 
Life  moves  from  within  outwards  :  the  heart  is 
the  well-spring  of  all  conduct.  The  purifying 
process  must  commence  at  the  centre  :  the  head- 
spring must  be  made  sweet.  So  Dante  shows  us 
in  the  earlier  terraces  how  these  three  inner 
maladies  of  the  soul  are  dealt  with. 

Pride  is  weighed  down  with  heavy  burden,  and 
her  eyes  are  turned  to  the  path  she  treads.  Dante 
saw  approaching  him  figures  so  deformed  as  not  to 
look  human,  he  turned  to  Virgil  for  explanation  : 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          153 

.   .   .   .   "  Maestro,  quel  ch'  io  veggio 
Mover  a  noi,  non  mi  sembran  persone, 
E  non  so  che,  si  nel  veder  vaneggio." 

(Purg.  x.  112-114.) 

They  went,  these  crumpled  figures,  bowed  as  a 
corbel  figure  bent  to  support  a  roof,  weary  they 
went  round  the  first  circuit  of  the  mountain, 
purging  the  world's  gross  darkness  off  their  souls. 

"Purgando  le  caligini  del  mondo." 

(Purg.  xi.  30.) 

For  pride  spreads  such  thick  darkness  before 
the  eyes  :  the  eye  is  not  single :  the  body  cannot 
be  full  of  light.  "  Take  heed,"  said  Christ,  "that 
the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  not  darkness."  The 
proud  soul  lives  in  an  unreal  world,  taking  false 
for  true  and  true  for  false.  He  loses  the  joys  and 
the  powers  of  this  life,  for  he  cannot  rejoice  with 
those  that  rejoice  or  weep  with  those  that  weep  : 
his  perverted  affection  leads  to  inverted  views  of 
life  :  his  pride  bids  him  rejoice  when  others  weep 
and  weep  when  others  rejoice.  Love  with  sweet 
naturalness  can  share  a  brother's  joys  and  sorrows, 
but  pride  perverts  the  soul  and  gives  distorted 
views  of  all  life's  circumstances.  But  here  in 
Purgatory  right  vision  is  first  insisted  upon.  The 
heavy  weights  upon  the  sinful  heads  compel  them 
to  look  down  :  here  is  wise  retribution  of  the 


154    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

pride  which  could  not  condescend  to  men  of  low 
estate  but  minded  high  things  !  Now  they  must 
look  low,  and  pay  heed  to  the  road  that  Providence 
bids  them  tread,  and  lo  !  on  the  roadside  and 
upon  the  ground  they  traverse  are  written  the 
revelations  of  life's  meanings,  which  pride  had 
made  them  miss.  The  mountain  wall  beside  them 
is  of  white  marble.  On  it  are  sculptured  scenes 
setting  forth,  in  images  which  seem  to  breathe, 
the  story  of  the  higher  joys  which  they  had  missed 
through  pride.  Upon  the  pavement  that  they 
trod  are  pictured  instances  of  historic  pride,  set 
forth  in  better  semblance  than  can  be  seen  in 
sculptured  memorials  of  the  dead  (Purg.  xii. 
16—24).  Proud  Lucifer  was  sculptured  there  : 
Apollo,  Mars,  and  Pallas  among  the  ancient  gods. 
Nimrod  stood  bewildered  among  the  confounded 
throng  thwarted  in  their  enterprise  of  the  heaven- 
reaching  tower  of  Babel.  Niobe,  in  a  trance  of 
woe,  was  there  :  Arachne,  half  spider  :  Rehoboam, 
fear-smitten,  flying  in  his  chariot,  and  others,  their 
story  skilfully  told  : 

"  Qual  di  pennel  fu  maestro  o  di  stile, 

Che  ritraesse  1*  ombre  e  i  tratti,  ch'  ivi 
Mirar  farieno  ogn'  ingegno  sottile  ? 
Morti  li  morti,  e  i  vivi  parean  vivi." 

(Purg.  xii.  64-67.) 

The  pictures  thus  seen  are  intended  to  be  incen- 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          155 

tives  to  humility  and  restraints  on  pride.  On  the 
wall  are  scenes  to  awaken  love  and  admiration  of 
humility  :  on  the  pavement  are  those  which  warn 
against  the  consequences  of  pride  :  the  former  are 
intended  to  act  as  a  scourge,  driving  souls  towards 
good  :  the  latter  the  bridle  restraining  them  from 
ill.  The  incentives  to  virtue  come  first,  and  this 
is  right.  In  the  process  of  purification  the  attrac- 
tion of  what  is  good  should  come  first.  Disciplin- 
arians who  do  not  understand  human  nature  too 
often  invert  this  order,  or,  indeed,  omit  the  first 
altogether.  Their  only  method  seems  to  be  to  lay 
stress  upon  the  evil  ;  their  preaching  is  of  terror  ; 
but  if  we  are  to  overcome  evil,  let  it  be  by  good. 
If  we  cannot  awaken  love  and  admiration  of  good 
we  shall  never  expel  the  evil.  The  consequences 
of  broken  moral  order  are  terrific,  and  they  cannot 
be  ignored  ;  but  they  are  of  the  nature  of  law,  and 
law,  though  just  and  good,  makes  nothing  perfect. 
To  tell  man  how  bad  a  thing  evil  is  does  not 
help  much  towards  good.  The  vision  of  what  is 
good  is  more  powerful.  Christ  transformed  the 
world,  not  by  denunciation  but  by  example.  In 
Him  the  picture  of  good  became  so  lovely  and 
so  divine  that  men  have  ever  since  been  drawn 
towards  His  ideal  of  good.  Dante,  therefore, 
with  wise  thought  describes  first  the  scenes  which 
appeal  to  the  love  of  good,  while  his  prudence 


156    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

of  truth  compels  him  to  set  forth  the  warning 
examples  of  the  disasters  wrought  through  pride. 
Thus  pride  is  the  first  sin  which  is  attacked  by 
the  discipline  of  God. 

The  entrance  to  the  kingdom  is  through  the 
gate  of  humility  :  men  who  would  win  the  battle 
against  themselves  must  gird  themselves  with 
humility — the  spirit  of  teachableness  :  they  must 
become  as  little  children,  for  he  that  humbleth 
himself  shall  be  exalted.  We  do  not  wonder,  then, 
that  the  prayer  which  is  heard  within  this  region 
of  pride  is  just  the  Lord's  Prayer.  These  sinners 
are  being  taught  once  more  to  kneel  at  a  Father's 
knee,  to  say  "  Our  Father,"  and  so  to  claim  as 
their  help  Him  who  is  bound  to  their  weakness 
by  a  Father's  love. 

Envy  is  the  daughter  of  pride.  Pride  is,  in  the 
first  aspect,  a  sin  against  God  :  it  is  Lucifer's  sin, 
as  Milton  declares  when  he  writes  of  the  time 

when 

"  His  pride 

Had  cast  him  out  from  Heaven,  with  all  his  host 
Of  rebel  Angels." 

It  is  the  sin  which  leads  to  the  ambition  of 
self-exaltation — the  sin  by  which,  in  Shakespeare's 
view,  the  angels  fell  (Henry  VIII. ^  Act  III.  Sc.  ii.). 
"  Prima  e  superbia  d'  ogni  ma]  radice "  are  the 
words  in  the  work  called  Dante's  Credo.  Pride  is 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          157 

first,  but  envy  is  the  offspring  of  pride,  and  comes 
next  under  correction.  In  fact  the  sin  against  God 
breeds  the  sin  against  man.  The  proud  carry 
weights  which  compel  them  to  lowliness  ;  the 
envious  have  their  eyes  sewn  up  with  iron  wires. 
The  significance  of  the  chastisement  is  clear. 
Envy  seals  the  eyes  to  love's  light.  "Life," 
says  Dante,  "  should  be  a  banquet  of  large  and 
generous  hospitality.  Everywhere  voices  may  be 
heard  inviting  men  to  partake  of  its  good  things  ; 
but  the  eyes  of  envy  are  closed  to  such  joys.  To 
them  life  has  not  been  the  table  of  love  "  (mensa 
d'amor)  (Purg.  xiii.  27).  In  vain  for  them  the 
feast  of  life  was  spread  :  they  cannot  share  it, 
poor  souls.  "Vinum  non  habent" — they  have 
no  wine.  They  lack  the  wine  of  love,  which 
makes  glad  the  heart  of  man  :  envy  scants  the 
measure  of  life's  kindlier  impulses.  These,  the 
victims  of  envy,  now  find  that  in  shutting  out 
pure  love  they  have  shut  out  light.  Envy 
teaches  hate,  and  "he  that  hateth  his  brother  is  in 
darkness  and  walketh  in  darkness  "  (i  John  ii.  1 1). 
We  may  put  the  analysis  of  this  state  of  soul  in 
another  form  :  envy  stints  generosity,  because 
love  perverted  becomes  selfish  and  selfishness 
becomes  cruel  :  it  forbids  the  generous  hand  as 
well  as  the  generous  thought  :  love — true  love — 
the  love  which  is  divine — forsakes  the  soul  which 


158    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

shuts  up  his  compassion  from  his  brother  (i  John 
iii.  17).  At  the  critical  moment  of  life's  banquet 
they  have  no  wine,  as  the  foolish  virgins  at  the 
hour  of  the  bridegroom's  coming  had  no  oil ;  the 
oil,  which  St  Augustine  held  to  mean  love,  was 
lacking  when  most  needed.  Oil  and  wine,  which 
the  good  Samaritan,  the  man  of  ready  and  cour- 
ageous love,  found  most  effectual  in  the  treatment 
of  his  fallen  neighbour,  are,  like  love,  healing 
and  gladdening  medicines  in  life. 

And  here  comes  one  of  those  exquisitely 
beautiful  phrases  in  which  Dante  discloses  his 
tenderness  of  heart.  He  sweetly  introduces  a 
rebuke  to  himself  in  the  narrative,  and  in  doing 
so  expresses  his  own  large  and  loving  habit  of 
thought.  As  he  passes  among  those  souls,  whose 
wire-closed  eyelids  gush  forth  with  tears,  he  asks 
whether  anyone  worth  remembering  is  among 
them  :  he  casts  the  question  in  the  form  which 
implies  that  only  souls  of  his  countrymen  were 
thus  worthy.  Is  there  among  you  any  Latin 
soul  ?  In  reply  a  voice  comes  from  a  distance 
and  speaks  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sentences  in 
the  poem  :  these  souls  are  bound  together  by  the 
tie  of  common  suffering  :  the  distinctions  which 
earthly  pride  may  make  have  no  place  among 
them  :  plunged  into  faithful  chastisement  as  they 
are,  their  citizenship  is  above  : 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          159 

"  O  frate  mio,  ciascuna  &  cittadina 
D'  una  vera  citta." 

(Purg.  xiii.  94.) 

*/  , 

Each  one  js  a  citizen  of  the  true  city  of  God.l 

Poor,  envy-tortured  and  blinded  souls,  that  sit  like] 
a  row  of  mendicants  outside  a  church — outcasts  as 
they  seem — they  yet  belong  to  the  brotherhood  of 
the  eternal  city.  Here  the  measureless  pity  of 
Dante  breaks  forth  in  words  that  rebuke  his  own 
pride  of  birth  and  ancestry  :  and  as  they  break 
forth  we  know  that  they  come  from  the  deep  fount 
of  his  own  tender  love.  The  poet  shows  here  the 
love  of  love  which  possesses  also  the  hate  of  hate. 
We  ought  not  to  quit  this  episode  without 
recalling  the  spirit  which  spoke  this  gentle  rebuke. 
The  commentators  speak  hardly  of  her  :  they 
neither  like  her  nor  the  way  she  tells  the  story 
of  herself  and  of  her  doom.  She  was  one  Sapia 
by  name,  who  hated  the  Sienese  and  prayed  for 
their  defeat :  she  stood  at  a  window  from  which 
she  could  see  the  impending  battle  :  her  sin  was 
her  joy  at  the  overthrow  of  others  : 

"Fui  degli  altrui  danni 
Piti  lieta  assai,  che  di  ventura  mia." 

(Purg.  xiii.  no,  in.) 

In  her  mad  joy  when  she  witnessed  the  defeat, 
she  cried,  "  Now,  O  God,  do  with  me  what  Thou 


160    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

wilt,  all  the  ill  that  Thou  canst  ;  for  now  I  shall 
live  happy  and  die  content."  Here,  poor  soul, 
she  meets  the  bitter  chastening  of  her  envious 
delight  in  the  misfortunes  of  others.  Her  sin 
may  have  been  crude  and  vulgar  :  her  narrative 
prolix  and  self-centred  ;  but  surely  we  can  per- 
ceive the  good  which  is  being  wrought  in  her. 
She  has  no  longer  any  venom  in  her  soul  :  she  is 
among  many  who  have  been,  perchance,  more 
wickedly  envious  than  she  ;  but  she  thinks  no 
scorn  of  any.  They  are  fellow-citizens  in  God's 
city,  which  hath  foundations.  Her  heart  goes 
out  to  them  all  with  a  love  which  recognises  their 
higher  destiny,  and  her  voice  is  lifted  up  to  defend 
them  from  the  disparagement  of  a  chance  passer- 
by. Love  is  at  work  in  the  spot  where  envy  is 
being  subdued.  Yes,  love  is  at  work,  says  Dante 
himself  :  the  jgnal^jneted  j>ut  to  those  souls 
is  inflicted  by  love  : 

"  Questo  cinghio  sferza 
La  colpa  della  invidia,  e  pero  sono 
Tratte  d'  amor  le  corde  della  ferza." 

(Purg.  xiii.  37-39.) 

By  love  alone  can  envy  be  cast  out,  and  so  the 
lashes  of  the  scourge  are  wielded  by  love. 

Dante  explains  how  this  can  be  :  envy  grows 
in  the  heart  when  the  heart  is  set  upon  things 
temporal.  The  material  advantages  of  the  world 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          161 

are  limited.  The  soul  grows  envious  of  the  pros- 
perity of  another  because  he  fears  that  this  may 
mean  less  for  him.  According  to  the  worldly 
measure,  the  more  my  neighbour  has  the  less  will 
be  mine  :  hence  my  envy  and  my  hate.  But  with 
heavenly  possessions  it  is  not  so  :  no  fear  of 
lessened  good  dwells  in  the  heart  of  him  who 
desires  the  supreme  good,  for,  unlike  earthly 
goods,  the  more  it  is  shared  the  more  it  becomes  : 
those  who  hunger  and  thirst  for  righteousness 
gain  when  others  gain  in  righteousness  :  no  fear 
of  loss  dwells  in  the  breast  which  longs  for  God  : 

" .   .  .  se  1'  amor  della  spera  suprema 
Torcesse  in  suso  il  desiderio  vostro, 
Non  vi  sarebbe  al  petto  quella  tema." 

(Purg.  xv.  52.) 

The  more  men  enter  into  the  partnership  of 
love,  the  more  does  love  abound.  As  in  the 
feeding  of  the  multitudes,  all  may  partake  and 
yet  abundance  be  left.  The  very  happiness  of 
heaven  grows,  the  more  there  are  who  truly  love. 
If  more  to  love,  then  more  love,  even  as  a 
mirror  which  reflects  more  light  as  more  light 
is  poured  upon  it : 

"  E  quanta  gente  piii  lassu  s'  intende, 

Piu  v'  &  da  bene  amare,  e  piu  vi  s'  ama, 
E  come  specchio  1*  uno  all*  altro  rende." 

(Purg.  xv.  73-75.) 
II 


1 62    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  warnings  against  envy  are  derived  from 
Cain  and  Aglauros.  Two  voices,  like  successive 
peals  of  thunder,  were  heard.  The  first  was  that  of 
Cain,  crying,  "  Everyone  that  findeth  me  shall 
slay  me  "  :  the  second  was  that  of  Aglauros,  who, 
through  jealousy  of  her  sister  Herse,  refused  to 
admit  Hermes  after  having  accepted  from  him 
a  bribe  of  gold  :  her  voice  is  heard  saying,  "  I  am 
Aglauros  who  was  turned  to  stone."  Envy 
hardens  the  heart.  Such  is  the  warning  which  is 
heard  as  the  pilgrims  are  about  to  leave  the 
second  terrace  ;  but  the  canto  is  not  to  close  with 
a  warning  voice  which  might  strike  terror  into 
the  heart.  When  all  is  still,  Virgil  speaks  and 
draws  attention  to  the  beauties  and  splendours 
with  which  heavenly  love  surrounds  man. 
Heaven  is  calling  men  upward  ;  eternal  glories 
are  around  :  it  is  the  earth-directed  gaze  which 
proves  men's  ruin.  It  is  not  one  fault  only,  viz. 
envy,  which  causes  the  trouble  :  it  is  the  low 
attitude  of  mind  out  of  which  envy  springs  : 

"  Chiamavi  il  cielo,  e  intorno  vi  si  gira, 
Mostrandovi  le  sue  bellezze  eterne, 
E  1'  occhio  vostro  pure  a  terra  mira  ; 
Onde  vi  batte  chi  tutto  discerne." 

(Purg.  xiv.  148-151.) 

Men  should  lay  the  blame  upon  their  low  desires, 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          163 

rather  than  complain  of  heaven's  chastisement. 
With  a  vision  of  a  radiant  angel,  and  the  sound 
of  voices  which  sing  "  Blessed  are  the  merciful " 
and  "  Rejoice  thou  that  conquerest,"  the  pilgrims 
pass  on  to  the  next  terrace,  and  enter  upon  a  stair- 
way less  steep  than  those  previously  encountered. 
The  upward  way  becomes  easier  as  men  ascend. 
The  hardest  fight  against  bad  habits  comes  at  the 
beginning;  here,  if  anywhere,  "well  begun  is  half 
done."  More  than  this — pride  and  envy  are  sins 
of  the  spirit.  The  later  sins  come  forth  into 
more  visible  shape  :  even  anger  tends  to  express 
itself  strongly  in  action.  We  are  more  readily 
aware  of  anger  than  we  are  of  envy  or  of  pride. 
These,  therefore,  being  more  subtle  and  incon- 
spicuous, are  more  difficult  to  conquer  :  the  first 
battle  is  within,  and  the  first  battle  is  also  the 
hardest,  as  it  is  a  battle  with  foes  hard  to  detect 
and  hard  to  subdue.  Henceforth  the  stairways 
are  less  steep. 

Thus  the  cornice  of  anger  is  reached.     A  smoke 

I  dense  as  night  here  meets  them  :  it  was  blinding 

?and  suffocating.     Dante  compares  it  to  the  gloom 

of  hell :  it  was  as  though  the  murky  and  acrid 

atmosphere  of   the  Inferno  had  risen  up  against 

them.     It  is  the  terrace  of  anger,  and  anger  lives 

in  the  atmosphere   of  hell  :    it  is   so  dark    that 

Dante  kept  in  close  touch  with  Virgil,  who  bids 


1 64    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

him  not  separate  from  him.  Voices  came  out  of 
the  thick  darkness — the  voices  of  people  who 
prayed.  One  word,  uttered  by  all  in  unison,  made 
up  their  prayer — "  O  Lamb  of  God."  Tormented 
with  wrath,  they  invoked  Him  who  is  their  peace. 
These  are  the  souls  who  march  on,  so  Dante 
says,  to  loose  the  knot  of  anger.  The  image  is 
striking,  for  anger  tangles  up  life  into  strange 
knots,  and  many  a  man  has  had  to  walk  far  before 
he  can  disentangle  matters  which  his  hasty  wrath 
has  thrown  into  confusion. 

Examples  which  show  the  spirit  of  forbear- 
ance follow  :  the  Virgin  utters  the  words,  "  Why 
hast  thou  thus  dealt  with  us  ? "  The  example  of 
Pisistratus  gives  place  to  that  of  St  Stephen,  who, 
with  eyes  fixed  upon  heaven,  prayed  for  his 
murderers. 

The  teaching  here  turns  upon  freewill.  There 
may  be  a  planetary  influence  in  each  man's  life, 
but  the  heavenly  influence  is  there  also,  and  that 
is  stronger  :  man  therefore  can  choose  his  path. 

Evil  begins  with  delight  in  some  trifling 
pleasure  :  the  soul  is  deceived  into  thinking  that 
it  has  within  its  grasp  the  highest  good.  It 
pursues  this  fancied  good,  if  a  restraining  Provi- 
dence does  not  intervene  and  turn  the  love  into 
a  better  direction.  There  is  no  attempt  to  deal 
specifically  with  anger.  We  are  left  to  infer 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          165 

that  the  disappointments  of  life,  which  provoke 
the  spirit  of  envy,  lead  on  to  anger  and  to  the 
spiritual  and  moral  perils  which  accompany  it. 

With  the  benediction — "  Blessed  are  the  peace- 
makers " — the  pilgrims  pass  upward  to  the  central 
cornice  of  the  Purgatory.  At  this  point  the  faults 
which  are  more  distinctly  faults  of  the  spirit  are 
being  left  behind.  Beyond  and  above,  the  faults 
which  touch  more  closely  upon  material  and 
physical  things  meet  their  chastisement.  Below, 
the  sins  which,  according  to  Dante,  arise  from 
distorted  or  perverted  love  have  been  disciplined, 
and  the  opposing  qualities  of  humility,  pity,  and 
the  peaceful  spirit  have  been  summoned  to 
counteract  or  expel  them. 

So  we  reach  the  central  cornice,  of  which  we 
have  spoken  :  it  shows  us  the  sin  of  love  which 
has  grown  slack,  even  to  indifference.  Here 
Virgil,  as  guide,  the  exponent  of  true  reason,  as  j 
we  have  seen,  explains  how  pure  love,  perverted, 
slack,  or  wrongly  stimulated,  becomes  the  source 
of  the  seven  sins  which  mark  the  seven  terracesof 
the  Purgatory.  This  central  cornice  is,  as  we 
have  already  noted,  the  transition  cornice,  which 
separates  the  sins  more  deeply  hidden  in  the  heart 
from  those  which  are  more  readily  manifested  in 
action  and  life.  It  forms  the  point  at  which 
heaven's  measure  and  earth's  measure  intersect. 


1 66    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  vice  of  indifference  or  slackness  in  moral 
effort  may  be  reached  from  above  or  from 
below.  Pride,  envy,  and  anger  may  at  last  give 
way,  but  they  may  leave  the  spirit  without  moral 
sympathy  enough  for  moral  activity.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  vices  of  self-indulgence — fleshly 
passions  and  spendthrift  habits  or  greed  of  gain — 
may  culminate  in  spiritual  lethargy.  Slackness 
may,  however,  be  a  sin  which  has  not  arisen  as  a 
reaction  or  culmination  of  other  faults  :  it  may 
be  the  characteristic  attitude  of  a  man  whose  life 
is  not  marked  by  any  conspicuous  vices  :  mere 
self-centredness  of  life  may  bring  about  moral 
inertia,  and  the  soul  may  grow  irresponsive  to  the 
higher  spiritual  appeal.  In  this  case  love,  which 
should  be  quick,  sensitive,  and  active,  droops  into 
an  easy  indifference,  from  which  again  it  might 
readily  pass  into  hardness  of  heart. 

It  is  significant  that  to  the  sinners  in  this 
cornice  no  form  of  prayer  or  words  of  scripture 
are  given  :  it  is  as  though  the  spiritual  lethargy 
rendered  them  incapable  of  adequate  spiritual 
responsiveness  :  it  may  be  that  their  chastisement, 
which  was  to  live  in  perpetual  haste,  was  unsuitable, 
as  Dr  Moore  suggests,  to  the  exercise  of  quiet 
meditation  and  prayer.  Was  it  needful  for  them 
to  be  roused  into  activity  before  they  could  use- 
fully enter  upon  the  more  peaceful  exercises  of 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          167 

devotion  ?  Their  moral  inertia  must  be  overcome 
before  the  statutes  of  the  Lord  could  become  their 
delight.  Or  is  it,  as  Dr  Carroll  inclines  to  think, 
that  one  discipline  of  spiritual  slothfulness  is  to 
be  deprived  of  that  privilege  of  prayer  which  they 
had  been  so  indolent  in  using  on  earth  ?  Their 
lot  is  to  be  driven  into  activity  :  to  feel  the 
stirrings  of  new  desire,  the  desire  of  those  spiritual 
advantages  so  long  neglected.  Thus  at  length 
a  strong  and  wholesome  sorrow  fills  their  hearts. 
Earnest  and  active  longings  awaken  within,  and 
they  can  pass  upward  with  the  beatitude,  "  Blessed 
are  they  that  mourn,"  ringing  in  their  ears,  like 
the  music  of  new  hope. 

Avarice,  gluttony,  and  lust — these  are  the 
successive  sins  which  last  need  purgation. 
AYarksdsjh^sj^^  :  gluttony  and  lust 

are  sins  of  the  flesh.  Avarice  is  the  sin  of  old 
age  :  gluttony  prevails  in  middle  life,  and  lust  in 
the  days  of  what  Dante  would  call  youth.  All 
are  sins  against  highest  love  :  all  are  symptoms  of 
uncontrolled  desire  or  unreasonable  love.  Avarice 
is  undue  love  of  worldly  possessions.  Gluttony 
is  undue  love  of  another  earthly  good — food. 
Lust  is  the  undue  love  of  one  of  earth's  blessings 
— the  love  of  woman. 

Love  is  the  root  of  all  joy  and  power  and  pro-"; 
gress.     If  directed  aright,  trained  and  disciplined^ 


1 68    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

fitly,  and  kept  always  in  the  highest  plane,  it 
becomes  a  real  force  helping  man  forward  and 
upward.  Ill-directed  or  ill-disciplined,  it  becomes 
the  source  of  degradation  and  calamity,  and  brings 
about  a  condition  in  which  outward  discipline 
becomes  imperative. 

Avarice — this  vice  has  one  terrible  power  in  it  : 
life  tends  to  strengthen  it.  It  is  the  vice  of  old 
age  in  the  sense  that  the  experiences  of  life  are 
often  taken  as  an  excuse — and  a  powerfully 
plausible  one — for  niggardliness.  It  calls  itself 
prudence  :  it  withers  the  love  of  better  and  nobler 
things,  and  renders  all  work  valueless  (Purg.  xix. 
121-123).  The  vital  power  goes  out  of  every 
effort :  so  these  sinners  lie  prostrate  on  the  ground, 
useless  and  unprogressive.  Their  faces  are  set 
now,  as  in  their  life  below,  earthward.  Like  the 
fallen  angels  who,  even  in  heaven,  looked  not 
upward  to  God  but  downward  to  gain  : 

"...  Mammon  led  them  on  ; 
Mammon,  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 
From  heaven  ;  for  e'en  in  heaven  his  looks  and  thoughts 
Were  always  downward  bent,  admiring  more 
The  riches  of  heaven's  pavement,  trodden  gold, 
Than  aught  divine  or  holy  else  enjoyed 
In  vision  beatific." 

(Paradise  Lost^  Book  I.) 

Similarly,  Dante  explains  that  it  was  the  lack  of  the 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          169 

upward  look  of  the  soul  which  wrought  calamity 
to  these  poor  sinners  : 

"  Si  come  1'  occhio  nostro  non  s'  aderse 
In  alto,  fisso  alle  cose  terrene, 
Cos!  giustlzia  qui  a  terra  il  merse." 

(Purg.  xix.  118-120.) 

The  voice  which  speaks  on  this  cornice  is  that 
of  Hugh  Capet :  he  sets  forth  the  stories  of  those 
whose  examples  may  serve  to  edify  and  warn  the 
sinners  who  learn  as  they  lie  prostrate.  Hugh 
Capet  speaks  as  one  who  is  himself  undergoing 
the  chastisement  of  this  fault.  He  speaks  as  a 
representative  of  these  sufferers  and  also  as  the 
head  of  his  family. 

The  story  of  this  family,  according  to  Dante, 
is  the  story  of  a  vice  which  grows  by  what  it 
feeds  upon.  When  the  family  was  poor  they 
could  feel  a  noble  shame,  but  as  they  won 
possessions,  and  the  "  great  dower  of  Provence  " 
became  theirs,  the  hideous  thirst  of  acquisitiveness 
grew.  They  became  lost  to  shame,  and  their 
greed  of  gain  brought  sorrow  to  the  world  and 
to  themselves. 

As  the  pilgrims  move  onward  Statius  corrects 
a  misunderstanding.  Avarice  is  often  considered 
to  be  merely  or  mainly  the  desire  to  gain  and  to 
keep.  The  poet  explains  that  the  spendthrift  must 


i  yo    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

( suffer  as  the  miser.  The  prodigal  is  as  the  man 
Igreedy  of  gain  ;  for  both  show  a  lack  of  under- 
standing the  true  value  of  possessions.  In  their 
handling  of  them  the  prodigal  and  the  miserly 
only  look  earthward  :  both  fail  to  turn  the  eye 
upward  and  realise  the  sacred  opportunity  which 
comes  to  those  who  live. 

One  graceful  touch  of  life's  unknown  influences 
is  given  here.  The  meeting  of  Statius  with  Virgil 
is  represented  as  a  pleasure  to  both  the  elder  poets. 
Through  Juvenal,  according  to  Dante,  Virgil  in 
the  Limbo  has  become  acquainted  with  the  works 
of  Statius,  and  they  meet  as  those  meet  who  have 
formed  such  appreciative  opinions  of  each  other 
that  they  are  prepared  to  be  more  than  friendly. 
Love  of  his  writings  has  awakened  in  Virgil  a 
love  for  Statius  himself  ;  so  Virgil  first  expresses 
himself  by  laying  down  a  general  proposition  ; 
we  may  love  one  we  have  never  seen,  but  when 
this  love  shows  itself  it  wakens  a  responsive  love  : 

u  Amore, 

Acceso  di  virtu,  sempre  altro  accese, 
Pur  che  la  fiamma  sua  paresse  fuore." 

(Purg.  xxii.  10-12.) 

Again,  Virgil  had  heard  from  Juvenal  that  Statius 
loved  his  works,  and  he  admits  that  this  knowledge 
aroused  in  him  an  affection  and  interest  in  Statius, 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          171 

and  he  looks  forward  to  the  pleasure  of  Statius's 
company  for  the  rest  of  the  mountain  journey  : 

"  Mia  benvoglienza  inverse  te  fu  quale 
Piu  strinse  mai  di  non  vista  persona. 
Si  ch'  or  mi  parran  corte  queste  scale." 

(Purg.  xxii.  1 6-1 8.) 

Thus  Virgil  speaks  in  gracious  courtesy,  and 
now  Statius  acknowledges  a  yet  heavier  debt  to 
Virgil.  He  owes  it  to  Virgil  that  his  lot  is  not 
cast  in  the  lower  world  of  the  Inferno,  among  the 
prodigals  and  misers  who  roll  their  heavy  burdens 
against  one  another.  Virgil's  words  in  the  third 
ALneid  had  laid  hold  upon  his  attention.  When 
he  read 

u  Quid  non  mortalia  pectora  cogis 
Auri  sacra  fames  ?  " 

he  realised  his  peril  and  saw  that  wanton  prodi- 
gality as  well  as  miserliness  was  a  misuse  of 
opgort^uity^:  this  led  to  his  repentance  of  this 
and  other  sins. 

This  is  a  human  touch,  because  it  tells  of  the 
lasting  power  of  thought,  of  the  happy  influence 
of  words  long  after  the  writer  of  the  words  has 
passed  away.  There  is  too  a  large-mindedness  on 
the  part  of  the  Christian  poet  in  attributing  the 
change  in  Statius's  life  to  the  words  of  a  heathen 
poet. 


172    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  onward  progress  of  the  pilgrims  has  not 
ceased  :  indeed,  the  conversation  upon  which  we 
have  lingered  takes  place  after  the  angel  voice, 
saying  "  Blessed  are  they  that  thirst,"  had  dis- 
missed the  pilgrims  from  the  fifth  cornice. 

In  this  sixth  cornice  the  coarse  sin  of  glyitony 
or  love  of  appetite  is  chastened.  The  souls,  with 
their  lean  and  starved  appearance,  suffer  from 
hunger  and  thirst,  standing  beneath  the  branches 
of  a  tree  laden  with  fruit,  longing,  like  children, 
to  eat  :  the  eager  appetite  remains,  but  in  this 
i region  of  discipline  it  cannot  be  satisfied.  There 
is  another  tree — the  tree  of  temperance  :  a  tree 
whose  fruit  is  hard  to  reach — hard  to  find  pleasure 
in, — yet  the  tree  of  frugal  fare  is  the  tree  of  life 
to  such  men  :  simple  food  and  clear  water  may  be 
sweet  as  the  richest  banquet.  For  such  sinners 
these  two  trees  have  been  prepared  :  the  first 
which  bears  the  fruit  of  temperance  :  the  second 
which  bears  fruit  that  appeals  to  gluttonous 
desire  ;  the  first  of  which  men  eat  for  strength  : 
the  second  for  appetite.  So  the  sixth  cornice  is 
passed,  which  shows  love  grown  gross  through 
over-indulgence  of  bodily  desire.  The  benedic- 
tion with  which  the  pilgrims  are  dismissed  tells 
that  through  discipline  desire  has  been  restored 
within  its  proper  bounds  by  the  awakening  of  the 
v  nobler  hunger — "  Blessed  are  they  that  hunger," 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          173 

says  the  heavenly  voice  ;  and  we  know  that  the 
hunger  is  for  righteousness,  and  that  the  love 
of  what  is  high  has  expelled  the  love  of  what 
is  low. 

There  are  reasons  which  make  our  study  of 
the  seventh  cornice  a  study  of  special  interest :  it  j 
is  the  cornice  in  which  the  last  of  the  seven  sins 
is  purged.  Love  is  the  keynote  of  the  whole 
poem,  and  love,  as  Dante  admitted,  was  the  master 
of  his  life.  This  terrace,  therefore,  in  which  love 
has  blazed  into  passionate  desire,  is  one  which 
touches  closely  the  personal  life  of  the  poet.  It 
is  not  part  of  my  task  to  enter  into  controversy 
upon  this  :  I  can  only  deal  with  this  as  far  as  my 
purpose  compels  me. 

Briefly  we  may  recall  the  purification  which 
awaits  the  souls  in  this  place  :  they  must  pass 
through  the  cleansing  fire.  The  symbolism  is 
clear  enough  :  love  in  these  sinners  had  fallen 
into  the  ways  of  grossness  :  they  had  allowed  it 
to  become  tempestuous  and  to  force  its  way 
through  the  baser  channels  of  life.  Such  a  love 
needs  purifying :  the  hot  passion  needs  the 
cleansing  flame  :  the  earthliness  must  be  burnt 
out  of  it.  Flames  break  forth  from  the  terrace 
embankment  :  a  breeze  from  the  edge  of  the 
cornice  blows  them  back,  and  leaves  at  intervals 
a  narrow  path  of  safety.  It  is  a  path  which  needs 


174    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

to  be  walked  warily  lest  one  fall  over  the  preci- 
pice on  the  one  side  or  stumble  into  the  fire  on 
the  other.  The  pilgrims  here  must  go  one  by 

one  : 

cc  Per  questo  loco 

Si  vuol  tenere  agli  occhi  stretto  il  freno, 
Perocch'  errar  potrebbesi  per  poco." 

(Purg.  xxv.  118-120.) 

With  a  strict  rein  upon  the  eyes  must  he  go 
who  would  curb  wandering  desire.  The  patriarch 
made  a  covenant  with  his  eyes  (Job  xxxi.  i)  in 
this  matter.  The  passion  of  this  desire  in  the 
Inferno  had  grown  to  a  tyrannous  blast  which  for 
ever  drove  its  victims  onward — the  slaves  of  a 
force  which  they  themselves  had  evoked.  Here 
in  the  Purgatorio  the  blast  plays  its  part  too  : 
from  the  cornice  edge  the  wind  blows  against  the 
flame — driving  it  back  to  make  the  narrow  path 
of  safety,  and  at  the  same  time  fanning  the  flame  : 
thus  alternately  the  fire  is  forced  back  and  then 
quickened  to  fiercer  flame.  So  in  the  fight  against 
passion,  the  very  restraint  which  is  chosen  or 
imposed,  while  it  sometimes  seems  to  open  the 
strait  path  of  safety,  serves  to  intensify  the 
passion  by  denial.  Thus  the  conflict  may  become 
more  ardent  :  in  fact,  the  power  of  the  passion  is 
not  known  save  in  resistance.  There  is,  there- 
fore, no  escape  but  to  endure  the  fire,  and  this 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          175 

the  angel  tells  the  pilgrims  who  tread  this  last  and 
painful  way  ;  but  those  who  enter  may  bend  their 
ear  and  hear  diviner  songs  than  earth's  low  love 
had  ever  sung  : 

"...   Piii  non  si  va,  se  pria  non  morde, 
Anime  sante,  il  foco  :  entrate  in  esso, 
Ed  al  cantar  di  Ik  non  siate  sorde." 

(Purg.  xxvii.  10-12.) 

The  angel  promise  is  fulfilled  :  a  voice  melodious 
will  bid  them  welcome  in  words  more  sweet  than 
sweetest  music  :  as  a  form  like  that  of  the  Son 
of  God  cheered  the  children  in  the  fire,  so  the 
song  of  heaven  will  encourage  these  souls  who  are 
purified  and  saved  yet  so  as  by  fire. 

One  feature  of  this  cornice  is  its  intimate  rela- 
tionship with  song  :  the  penitents  sing  in  the 
flame  :  they  are  encouraged  by  heavenly  music  ; 
and,  fitly  enough,  those  whom  they  meet  are 
singers  of  earthly  music  ;  and  the  conversation 
of  the  pilgrims  is  chiefly  of  song.  Here  Virgil 
and  Dante  and  Statius  meet  the  Proveii9al  poets 
Guido  Guinicelli  and  Arnaut  Daniel.  We  are  in 
the  company  of  those  poets  who  delighted  in 
amatory  verse.  Did  Dante  feel  that  love-songs 
had  a  tendency  to  bring  men  into  this  fire  ? 
Certainly,  some  among  the  Troubadour  singers 
set  fashions  of  love  which  brought  morals  into 


176    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

doubt ;  and  it  seems  to  me  significant  that  the 
only  souls  whom  Dante  meets  in  this  circle 
expiating  their  fault  should  be  those  of  love- 
poets.  Guido  Guinicelli  was,  according  to 
Benvenuto,  a  man  of  uncontrolled  passions — 
"  Sicut  autem  erat  ardentis  ingenii  et  linguae,  ita 
ardentis  luxuriae";1  and  the  amatory  poems  of 
Arnaut  Daniel  are  not  free  from  moral  reproach. 
"  The  tenor  of  one  "  (poem),  says  Mr  Paget  Toyn- 
bee,  "  sufficiently  accounts  for  the  place  in  Purga- 
tory assigned  to  him  by  Dante."  We  must, 
however,  be  careful  not  to  infer  anything  like 
wholesale  viciousness  of  spirit  among  these 
singers.  Dante  belonged  to  the  new  school 
(dolce  stil  nuovd)  :  he  recognised  Guido  Guini- 
celli as  his  master.  When  he  heard  Guido  tell  his 
name,  he  acknowledged  his  indebtedness  : 

"  Quand'  i'  odo  nomar  se  stesso  il  padre 
Mio,  e  degli  altri  miei  miglior,  che  mai 
Rime  d'  amore  usar  dolci  e  leggiadre." 

(Purg.  xxvi.  97-100.) 

But  Dante  and  the  Florentine  school  lifted 
love  into  regions  of  a  noble  purity  :  woman  was 
treated  with  reverence.  The  Proven9al  poets 
often  regarded  marriage  and  love  as  mutually 
exclusive :  they  would  have  agreed  with  the 

1  Benvenuto,  Com.,  vol.  iv.  121. 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          177 

verdict  of  M.  Finot,  who  expresses  his  views 
thus  :  "  Les  cours  d'amour  n'ont-elles  pas  decrete 
que  Tamour  et  le  mariage  s'excluent  comme  1'eau 
et  le  feu?"1  Where  such  views  prevail  vice 
cannot  be  far  off,  but  the  Florentine  school  rose 
above  this  low  level.  In  their  verse  the  married 
woman  was  replaced  by  the  young  maiden  :  the 
Proven9al  gallantry  was  rebuked  :  a  new  epoch 
began  ;  a  new  ideal  was  created.2  Dante,  in 
placing  these  singers  where  he  did,  implied  no 
censure  of  the  elevated  strain  of  this  school  of 
new  poets,  but  did  he  not  mean  to  hint  that 
poetry  which  deals  with  this  kind  of  love  needs 
careful  safeguarding  ?  How  easily  its  degradation 
may  follow  is  exemplified  in  one  sufferer  here, 
Arnaut  Daniel  :  he  warns  against  practical  dangers 
in  the  case  of  Guido  Guinicelli.  The  poet-heart 
is  susceptible  ;  Dante  knew  that  he  himself  was  so 
(Par.  v.  99),  and  his  conviction  of  this  danger 
expresses  itself  when  he  pictures  these  two  poets 
suffering  in  the  seventh  terrace  of  the  Purgatorio. 

How  near  together  in  this  passion  are  good 
and  evil  :  with  what  cautious  footsteps  we  need 
to  walk  along  this  road  of  love.  "  Take  heed," 
says  Reason  our  guide,  "  for  love  may  be  a  foolish 

1  Prtjuge  et  Probleme  des  Sexes,  p.  449.     Par  Jean  Finot ; 
Paris,  Felix  Alcan. 

2  Dante,  Beatrice  et  la  Potsie  Amoureuse.     Par  Remy  de 
Gourmont ;  Paris,  1908. 

12 


178    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

pastime,  a  base  snare,  a  tormenting  memory,  or 
ITsweet  and  pure  inspiration."     "  What  is  love  ?  " 
Keats  asked,  and  answered  his  own  question  : 

"  And  what  is  love  ?      It  is  a  doll  dress'd  up, 
For  idleness  to  cosset,  nurse,  and  dandle." 

Here  it  is  seen  as  a  foolish  pastime. 
Again,  in  a  different  mood,  he  gave  a  different 
description  : 

"  What  can  I  do  to  drive  away 
Remembrance  from  my  eyes  ?     For  they  have  seen, 
Aye,  an  hour  ago,  my  brilliant  queen  ! 

Oh  !  the  sweetness  of  the  pain  ! 

Give  me  those  lips  again  ! 

Enough  !     Enough  !     It  is  enough  for  me 

To  dream  of  thee." 

^  Here  it  becomes  a  torment ;  but  it  may  become 
worse,  a  base  snare,  for  by  reaction  it  may  awaken 
a  torturing  hatred.  "  Lust  hard  by  hate,"  wrote 
Milton  wisely  :  (cf.  2  Sam.  xiii.  1 5)  so  it  proved 
with  Amnon.  But  the  same  passion,  when  it 
flows  in  nobler  and  more  natural  channels,  becomes 
an  incentive  to  a  pure  and  unselfish  life  ;  as  King 
Arthur  taught  his  knights  : 

"  To  lead  sweet  lives  in  purest  chastity, 
To  love  one  maiden  only,  cleave  to  her, 
And  worship  her  by  years  of  noble  deeds, 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE         179 

Until  they  won  her  ;  for  indeed  I  knew 
Of  no  more  subtle  master  under  heaven 
Than  is  the  maiden  passion  for  a  maid. 
Not  only  to  keep  down  the  base  in  man. 
But  teach  high  thought,  and  amiable  words 
And  courtliness,  and  the  desire  of  fame 
And  love  of  truth,  and  all  that  makes  a  man." 

High  love  serves  to  kill  the  low.  Dante's  con- 
ception is  therefore  just,  that  only  a  fiery  and 
heavenly  love  can  burn  out  the  baser.  Love 
is  stronger  than  death,  and,  if  our  faith  be  right, 
it  is  mightier  than  sin.  God,  who  is  love,  is 
also  a  consuming  fire.  If  it  be  fearful  to  fall 
into  His  hands,  it  is  better  to  do  so  than  to  fall 
into  any  less  faithful  hands  than  His,  who  sits 
as  a  refiner  and  purifier  of  silver.  His  fire  will 
try  every  work.  There  are  worse  things  than 
pain,  and  the  fire  of  God,  if  painful,  carries  a 
blessing.  In  the  fire  we  may  hear  unspeakable 
music,  the  song  of  heaven  is  always  sweet ; 
and  to  the  heart,  weary  of  his  own  earthliness 
and  longing  for  purity  and  righteousness,  it  is 
sweet  to  hear  the  benediction,  which  then  comes 
like  a  song  of  triumph,  "Blessed  are  the  pure 
in  heart." 

With  this  music  in  our  ears  we  may  pass  out 
of  the  final  cornice  of  the  Purgatorio. 

But  before  we  leave  the  ascent  of  this  mountain 


180    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

of  discipline,  let  us  look  back  upon  the  terraces 
and  mark  the  sins  which  have  been  disciplined 
there. 

The  process  of  purifying  has  moved  from  the 
centre  of  man's  being  outward  :  its  power  has 
passed  in  ever-widening  circles  till  it  has  grasped 
man's  whole  body.  When  humility  has  taken 
the  place  of  pride,  when  pity  has  supplanted  envy, 
when  peace  has  banished  anger,  when  energy  has 
driven  out  indifference,  when  a  nobler  hunger 
and  thirst  have  superseded  greed  and  gluttony, 
when  purified  love  has  come  into  the  soul  in 
place  of  base  passion,  then  the  spirit  and  soul 
and  body  are  presented  blameless  in  the  garden 
of  the  earthly  paradise.  Perfect  self-mastery  is 
now  the  portion  of  the  pilgrim  :  the  great  animat- 
ing principle  of  love  is  delivered  from  the  powers 
which  distorted,  starved,  or  inflated  it  :  it  is  re- 
stored to  its  pure,  natural  capacity  :  it  is  ready 
for  worthy  uses,  and  it  is  open  to  heavenly  in- 
spirations. It  may  now  mount  upward,  for  it 
has  waited  on  the  Lord  and  renewed  its  strength  : 
the  souls  so  disciplined  shall  mount  up  as  eagles  : 
the  sense  of  fatigue  will  pass  from  them  :  they 
shall  run  and  not  be  weary  :  they  shall  walk  and 
not  faint  (Isa.  xl.  31). 

As  they  have  learned  the  exercise  of  self-control 
they  are  masters  of  themselves  and  monarchs  in 


EDUCATIVE  DISCIPLINE          181 

the  realm  of  their  own  being  :  they  may  now  be 
crowned,  and  as  they  are  now  fit  to  make  the 
one  true  offering  of  themselves  to  God,  they 
can  be  welcomed  as  kings  and  priests  in  the 
divine  kingdom.  Love  now  moves,  natural  and 
equable,  within  their  well-disciplined  souls,  and 
love  is  ready  to  go  forth  in  holy  activity,  aspiring  _ 
after  God  and  longing  to  be  of  service  to  man.,_ 
Love  is  purified  for  sacrifice  :  heaven  is  opening 
above  her  head  :  graces  and  gifts  divine  are  de- 
scending upon  her.  Laved  in  the  streams  of 
sweet  forgetfulness  and  happy  memory,  she  is 
ready  to  mount  to  the  stars  : 

"  Rifatto  si,  come  piante  novelle 
Rinnovellate  di  novella  fronda, 
Puro  e  disposto  a  salire  alle  stelle." 

(Purg.  xxxiii.  143—145.) 


LECTURE  V 

VICTORY  OF  LOVE 

("  PARADISO  ") 

/  WHEN  we  enter  the  Paradiso  we  enter  the  realm 

j  I /in  which   love   makes    itself   felt  without  let   or 

V  hindrance.      The   atmosphere   of   the   Inferno   is 

\  law :  that  of  the  Purgatorio  is  hope :  love  breathes 

\everywhere  in   the  Paradiso.     The  word  love   is 

used  nineteen  times  in  the  Inferno^  and  some 'fifty 

times  in  the  Purgatorio  :    it  rings  like  a  joy-bell 

throughout   the   Paradiso  :    it   is   heard  in  every 

canto  :  seventy-seven  times  the  word  falls  on  our 

V  J 

ears  as  we  read  this  cantica. 

The  form  of  the  ten  heavens  is  due.  of  course, 

V  '  ' 

to  the  prevailing  theories  of  astronomy  :  the  poet 
takes  the  knowledge  of  his  day  and  makes  it  serve 
the  great  purpose  of  his  work. 

The  features  of  this  realm  which  strike  us  are 
^    love,  peace,  and  progress,  accompanied  by  increas- 
ing light  and  perpetual  song.     The  pilgrim  still 

moves    onward  :    now    his  advance  is  rapid  and 

182 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  183 

easy,  but  it  is  a  progress  towards  higher  and 
nobler  knowledge  ;  and  always  the  sense  of  peace 
is  with  him  as  he  advances.  The  peace  of  the 
realm  into  which  he  has  entered  is  all  the  more 
evident  if  we  realise  that  movement  increases  in 
force  and  rapidity  the  higher  the  pilgrim  goes. 

From  the  heart  of  the  heavens  all  love,  all 
(  energy,  all  initiative,  all  light  and  music  spring. 
The  old  image  of  the  spreading  circlets  on  the 
face  of  the  waters,  into  which  a  stone  has  been  cast, 
may  be  taken  as  giving  roughly  Dante's  conception 
of  the  Paradiso.  The  centre  of  all — the  highest 
heaven — glows  with  the  eternal  fire  of  love  ;  but 
from  it  love's  energy  passes  forth  and  becomes,  in 
the  next  heaven,  movement  incalculably  rapid  :  in 
the  heaven  next  beneath  it  distributes  itself  in 
diverse  forms,  as  one  star  differeth  from  another 
star  in  glory.  We  see  love  at  rest,  love  in  action, 
and  love  distributed  into  various  fountains  of 
capacity  and  centres  of  influence  :  love  peaceful, 
energetic,  diversified,  fills  these  highest  heavens. 

This  last  highest  Trinity  of  heavens  may  hold 
a  symbolism  of  the  working  of  the  Godhead. 
God  the  Father  as  the  central  fount  of  love  :  God 
the  Son  is  God  manifest  in  energy  :  God  the  Spirit 
distributes  to  all,  severally,  as  they  need. 
I  In  all  this  picturing  of  divine  things  it  is  the 
(spiritual  value  which  is  dominant.  Thus  move- 


1 84    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

ment,  intensely  rapid  in  the  primum  mobile  or 
first  moving  heaven,  throbs  all  through  the 
descending  heavens  ;  the  rapidity  slackens  as  we 
descend,  but  intensifies  as  we  move  upwards.  No 
material  or  physical  idea  is  here  :  it  is  but  the 
expression,  in  imaginative  form,  of  the  idea  that 
the  nearer  man  is  to  God,  the  more  does  the 
energy  of  his  love  grow  and  produce  greater  activity 
in  the  power  of  service.  The  whole  conception  is 
that  of  natural  objects  and  phenomena  employed 
to  express  spiritual  truth.  We  must  bear  this  in 
mind.  The  Paradiso  is  felt  to  be  tame  and  un- 
attractive, because  lacking  in  the  incidents  which 
meet  us  in  the  Inferno  and  in  the  Purgatorio.  If 
we  treat  it  as  a  picture  of  heavenly  geography  and 
of  its  physical  order  and  occupations,  it  will  seem 
wanting  in  arresting  force.  But  we  are  not  bound 
to  treat  it  after  the  fashion  of  prosaic  minds. 
The  literalist  can  hardly  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  The  literal  must  fall  away  from  us  as 
we  cross  heaven's  threshold.  What  is  sown  a 
natural  body  must  be  raised  a  spiritual  body. 
The  natural  man  discerneth  not  the  things  of  the 
spirit  :  they  may  be  foolishness  to  him.  The 
pilgrim  in  this  upper  world  must  be  the  spiritual 
pilgrim  :  such  an  one  will  find  his  path  one  which 
shines  more  and  more  to  the  perfect  day,  and 
thrills  more  and  more  to  the  perfected  love.  As 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  185 

spiritual  pilgrims  going  on  to  perfection,  we  must 
enter  upon  the  study  of  the  Paradiso.  Then  its 
features  will  possess  for  us  a  true  and  attractive 
significance  ;  for  the  story  is  that  of  the  growing 
and  ripening  soul.  With  this  in  our  minds  we 
may  follow  the  symbolism  of  the  cantica. 

There  must  be  a  complete  self-surrender,  if 
God  is  to  fill  the  soul — let  us  note  the  symbolic 
suggestion  of  this  at  the  outset. 

The  hour  at  which  Dante  enters  the  Inferno  is 
*  sundown.  In  contrast  he  enters  the  Purgatorio 
at  sunrise  :  a  new  day  of  hope  has  dawned  upon 
his  life  :  the  hour  is  one  of  promise  :  the  sun's 
sweet  influence  is  in  the  ascendant.  But  he  enters 
-Jlthe  Paradiso  at  mid-day,  when  the  sun's  full  power 
is  poured  upon  the  earth  :  it  is  the  hour  of  sacred, 
high,  eternal  noon  :  the  sun  is  at  the  zenith,  and 
all  human  occupations  are  suspended  :  the  sound 
of  industry  is  hushed  :  the  busy  folk  are  snatching 
this  hour  for  repose  :  it  is  the  hour  of  the  cessation 
of  human  effort.  It  is,  moreover,  the  vernal 
equinox,  when  the  docile  earth  surrenders  herself 
to  the  sweet  seductions  of  the  spring,  and  when 
the  sun  is  coming  forth  as  a  bridegroom  out  of 
his  chamber.  It  is  the  period  of  the  cessation 
of  effort  and  of  the  surrender  of  the  soul  to  the 
influences  of  heaven. 

This  mystic  feeling  makes  itself  felt  as  the  action 


1 86    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

of  the  poem  advances.  The  pilgrim  surrenders 
himself  to  the  heavenly  forces  which  are  around. 
Power  falls  upon  him,  and,  without  being  aware 
of  his  own  movement,  he  is  mounting  upward. 
This  spiritual  idea  is  common  in  experimental 
religious  records.  Progress  in  the  Christian  life 
__|s__.not  through  effort,  but  through  all-embracing 
divine  help  :  in  God  we  live  and  move  and  have 
our  being.  Here  is  the  force  of  the  Apostolic 
injunction,  "yield  yourselves."  As  you  have 
yielded  yourselves  to  the  power  of  worldly  forces, 
so  now  yield  yourselves  to  the  power  of  the 
spiritual  forces  which  pour  around  you.  It  is 
similar  to  that  other  precept,  "  Walk  in  the  spirit 
and  ye  shall  not  fulfil  the  lusts  of  the  flesh  "  ;  or 
again,  "  To  be  spiritually  minded  is  life  and  peace." 
Thus,  surrendering  himself  naturally  to  the  throb- 
bing powers  of  heaven,  Dante  mounts  upward. 

If  the  Purgatorio  shows  us  the  discipline  of  the 
will,  the  Paradiso  reveals  the  satisfaction  of  the 
heart.  Painful  effort  ceases  :  no  more  need  the 
weary  feet  tread  the  pilgrim's  way  :  no  more  do 
the  burdens  of  past  faults  weigh  heavy  on  the  soul  : 
no  longer  does  every  step  seem  to  be  no  gain,  but 
only  a  reproach  of  time  wasted  in  wandering  : 

"  Com'  uom  che  torna  alia  perduta  strada, 
Che  infino  ad  essa  gli  par  ire  in  vano." 

(Purg.  i.  119,  120.) 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  187 

Now  movement  is  painless  and  upward.  So 
gentle  and  yet  so  rapid  is  the  movement  that  the 
poet  feels  no  sense  of  motion,  so  swift  that  no 
outward  measure  of  its  speed  is  possible  :  thus, 
amid  breathless  movement,  there  is  a  sense  of  rest, 
and  yet  it  is  not  the  rest  of  lethargy,  when,  in 
quick  succession,  convictions  of  rapid  upward 
flight  break  upon  the  soul. 

The  rest  of  heaven  is  not  stagnation  :  the 
higher  the  soul  rises  the  swifter  are  the  move- 
ments in  which  it  is  involved.  This  is  no  heaven 
of  the  indolent,  the  spirits  are  caught  in  the  great 
circling  stream  of  the  divine  energy,  which  grows 
swifter  and  swifter  as  it  approaches  the  central 
fire  of  God.  The  ignoble  heaven  of  popular 
thought  is  not  the  heaven  of  Dante  ;  slackness, 
inertness,  a  fond  desire  of  sloth,  find  no  place 
in  his  conception  :  he  is  much  nearer  to  the  con- 
ception of  the  Gospel,  in  which  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  a  field  of  labour,  and  the  glory  of  God 
is  that  of  the  ceaseless  worker.  "  My  Father 
worketh  hitherto,  and  I  work,"  was  the  utterance 
of  Christ.  The  nearer  to  God  the  greater  the 
working  energy,  is  the  thought  of  Dante. 

Viewed  from  the  literal  standpoint,  the  Paradiso 
is  an  imaginative  picture  of  the  splendour — and, 
perhaps  we  ought  to  add,  the  joys — of  heaven, 
but  as  a  spiritual  conception  it  sets  forth  in 


1 88    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

picturesque  form  the  stages  and  conditions  of 
/the  soul's  advance  Godward  ;  in  fact,  it  embodies 
and  unfolds  some  final  experiences  of  the  Christian 
| pilgrim's  progress.  If  we  are  to  seekt  he  true 
message  of  the  Paradiso,  we  must  interpret  it 
from  the  spiritual  standpoint.  We  need,  how- 
ever, to  keep  before  us  what  we  may  call  the 
stage  setting  of  the  spiritual  drama  ;  though  the 
message  of  the  moving  act,  not  the  scenery,  con- 
veys the  true  meaning.  The  stage  and  scenery, 
however,  are  splendid  of  their  kind.  The  pilgrim 
moves  upwards,  leaving  the  earthly  paradise 
behind.  Without  being  sensibly  aware  of  it,  he 
is  passing  through  great  belts  of  air  and  fire  :  he 
then  moves  successively  through  the  planets  of  the 
Ptolemaic  system — the  Moon,  Mercury,  Venus, 
the  Sun,  Mars,  Jupiter,  Saturn  ;  higher  still  in  his 
journey  he  reaches  the  region  of  the  fixed  stars,  the 
last  realm  in  which  the  divine  energy  reveals  itself 
in  form  :  then,  "  Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot," 
upward  he  flies  and  enters  the  great  circle  in 
which  formless  divine  energy  sweeps  with  such 
intense  rapidity  that  the  very  idea  of  speed  is 
annihilated,  and  the  pilgrim  steps  into  the  central 
realm  of  eternal  rest.  The  peace  and  stability  of 
the  universe  is  here  in  the  very  presence  of  God,  \ 
whose  fire  is  the  fire  of  love.  He  is,  therefore, 
both  the  security  of  peace  and  the  source  of  the 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  189 

energising  power  of  every  realm,  from  the  centre 
to  the  most  distant  circumference  of  his  empire — 
the  universe. 

Among  other  features  of  the  Divine  Comedy 
we  must  notice,  I  think,  the.  occasional  and  un- 
expected modernism  of  some  of  the  poet's  con- 
ceptions. He  tells  us  that  when  he  looked 
steadfastly  at  the  sun  he  saw  it  going  forth  with 
ceaseless  industry,  flames  like  sparks  from  molten 
iron  (Par.  i.  54—62)  :  and  in  a  later  canto  he  takes 
us  to  the  circle  where  motion — which  has  been 
growing  in  rapidity  with  every  advance  towards 
the  central  heaven — attains  its  maximum  in  the 
embrace  therefore  of  the  realm  of  unchangeable 
peace  (Par.  xxiv.  131,  132)  :  the  compact  stability 
of  the  most  changeless  things  we  know  is  attained 
through  the  measureless  rapidity  of  constituent 
parts.  The  atom,  which  was  thought  to  defy 
division,  is  found  to  be  a  little  system  of  swiftly 
revolving  molecules  :  its  quiet  strength  is  sus- 
tained by  the  intensity  of  movement,  which  it 
conceals.  The  central  peace  of  all  is  not  allied 
with  indolent  quietude  :  the  nearer  to  God  the 
deeper  the  peace,  and  also  the  greater  the  necessity 
of  eager  activity. 

The  realm  is  one  of  progress. 

The  idea  of  continued  progress  in  the  Paradiso 
receives  illustration  as  we  note  how  the  stages  of 


190    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

mediaeval  learning  are  incorporated  in  the  imagery. 
The  Ptolemaic  system  of  astronomy  is  made  to 
represent  the  progress  of  learning.  The  first 
three  planets — the  Moon,  Mercury,  and  Venus — 
represent  the  Trivium,  i.e.  Grammar,  Dialectics, 
and  Rhetoric  respectively  ;  the  next  four  planets 
represent  the  Quadrivium,  i.e.  Arithmetic,  Music, 
Geometry,  and  Astrology :  three  heavens  lie 
beyond,  and  they  stand  for  the  three  great 
revelations  of  God  in  Natural  Science,  in  Moral 
Science,  and  finally  in  Theology.  Our  interpreta- 
tion, however,  must  avoid  mechanical  literalism. 
The  significance  of  the  planets  thus  brought  into 
harmony  with  the  curriculum  of  education  is 
simply  this  :  that  the  progress  through  the  heavens 
is,  like  the  pursuit  of  the  stages  of  study,  educa- 
tional ;  the  soul,  with  the  mind,  must  be  exercised 
in  the  powers  of  the  Graces.  As  the  student  must 
become  well  skilled  in  grammar  and  dialectics  and 
rhetoric,  so  must  the  soul  be  apt  in  faith,  hope, 
and  charity.  Again,  as  the  Quadrivium  must 
follow  the  Trivium,  so  must  the  great  cardinal 
virtues  of  life  appear  as  products  of  the  Graces. 
The  virtues  are  not  to  be  learned  by  practice  or 
discipline,  as  in  the  Purgatorio  :  they  must  be 
effluent  from  graces  already  stored  in  the  soul  : 
they  must  come  as  from  a  centre  of  spiritual  force, 
not  as  an  acquired  habit,  but  as  in  harmony  with 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  191 

the  governing  impulses  of  the  soul.  But  when 
these  graces  and  virtues  are  thus  possessed,  more 
lies  beyond.  Then  the  powers  of  perception  and 
apprehension  are  enlarged  :  the  spirit  can  discern 
God  in  Nature,  God  in  moral  order,  God  in  the 
very  soul  itself.  The  highest  capacity  reached  is 
the  theological,  the  final  knowledge  of  God,  not 
through  any  medium,  like  that  of  natural  or  moral 
order,  but  in  direct  spiritual  vision. 

It  is,  therefore,  not  into  a  fixed  and  stereotyped 
heaven  that  the  pilgrim  is  introduced  in  the 
Paradiso  :  it  is  into  a  realm  of  spiritual  progress  : 
it  is  into  a  realm  of  spiritual  order  :  its  laws  are 
different  from  the  laws  of  lower  regions  : 

"  And  much  is  lawful  there  which  here  exceeds 
our  power."  (C.  i.  55.) 

But  its  laws  are  truly  laws  :  it  is  no  chaotic  or 
anarchical  heaven  :  its  habitations  express  accu- 
rately the  spiritual  qualities  of  souls  in  various 
stages  of  progress.  It  is  a  region  through  which 
the  pilgrim  may  go,  learning  and  growing  at  every 
stage,  learning  because  growing,  and  growing  by 
learning  :  for  experience  and  capacity  increase  by 
interaction.  We  must  drop  our  earthly  standards 
of  measurement  in  this  world  of  progress.  "  Here  " 
and  "  there  "  and  "  now  "  and  "  when  "  are  notions 
of  earth,  and  must  be  forgotten  in  the  Paradiso. 


1 92    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  souls  are  linked  with  various  planets,  which 
betoken  degrees  of  spiritual  capacity,  yet  all  have 
their  abode  in  the  Mystic  Rose.  But  we  must  con- 
ceive of  these  things  apart  from  ideas  of  time  and 
place  :  the  advance  is  one,  not  of  movement,  but  of 
spiritual  growth.  Place  is  not  this  planet  or  that, 
but  peace  and  light  in  the  great  company  of  souls 
who  dwell  in  the  presence  of  God.  It  is  in  this 
sense  that  we  must  understand  and  measure  the 
progress  of  the  soul  in  the  Paradiso. 

It  is,  then,  a  spiritual  progress  which  is  exhibited 
in  the  Paradiso.  Whatever  attempt  Dante  made 
to  draw  pictures  of  heaven,  spiritual  ideas  were 
almost  always  uppermost  in  his  mind.  The 
interest  which  he  may  have  felt  in  a  material 
heaven  is  subordinate  to  his  ethical  conceptions  : 
the  progress  of  the  soul  towards  the  vision 
and  presence  of  God  is  more  than  all  poetical 
picturings. 

Dante,  in  his  own  characteristic  fashion,  makes 
us  realise  that  heaven  is  no  place  of  eternal  fixed- 
ness. For  mortals  entering  it  the  prospect  is 
one  of  progress  and  variety  :  the  step  across  its 
threshold  does  not  usher  us  at  once  into  the 
scenes  of  its  fullest  or  final  delight  :  it  only 
introduces  the  pilgrim  to  a  journey  through 
realms  of  growing  light,  music,  and  movement. 
Happiness  is  indeed  the  portion  of  its  inhabitants, 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  193 

but  the  shadow  of  earth  stretches  far  beyond  the 
threshold.  The  marks  and  consequences  of 
human  frailty  are  seen  to  reach  through  three  of 
heaven's  mansions,  the  penumbra  of  the  earth  falls 
across  the  heavens  of  the  Moon,  Mercury,  and 
Venus  :  lack  of  completeness  in  spiritual  grasp 
while  on  earth  brings  this  dimming  of  heaven's 
light.  The  Christian  life  has  at  its  root  the  thre^ 
graces  of  Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity.  Instability 
in  Christian  purpose  means  weakness  in  faith : 
personal  ambition  blending  with  noble  devotion 
implies  lack  of  firm  grasp  upon  Christian  hope  : 
undue  earthliness  in  affection  may  impair  the 
bright  purity  of  love.  So  earth's  shadow  falls 
over  the  appointed  lot  of  those  who  betrayed  such 
weaknesses.  Those  who  showed  instability  in  high 
purpose  find  their  fitting  lot  in  the  inconstant 
Moon  :  those  in  whom  the  alloy  of  personal 
ambition  mingled  with  great  and  noble  desires 
have  their  portion  assigned  them  in  Mercury  : 
those  in  whom  love  betrayed  some  taint  of  earth- 
liness find  their  place  in  Venus.  Over  these  three 
heavens  the  faint  earth  shadow  rests. 

But  no  spirit  is  confined  to  these  lower  heavens. 
The  pilgrim  journeying  Godward  takes  his  way 
through  them,  but  he  must  pass  through  the 
heavens  in  which  the  cardinal  virtues  are  strong. 
Prudence  shines  in  the  Sun  :  Fortitude  assumes 

13 


i94    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

its  warlike  mantle  in  Mars  :  Justice  marks  the 
heaven  of  Jupiter  :  while  in  Saturn,  Self-control 
or  Temperance  sets  the  spirit  free  for  that 
contemplation,  which  lifts  the  soul  higher  and 
nearer  God. 

Three  heavens  lie  beyond,  but  to  reach  these 
the  soul  must  ascend  by  the  ladder  of  gold,  which 
rises  upward  till  it  reaches  the  last  heaven  of 
final  rest. 

Thus  in  the  structure,  as  it  were,  of  the  Paradiso 
we  are  compelled  to  notice  the  idea  of  advance. 
Heaven  is  no  place  of  stagnation  :  all  things  and 
all  souls  are  in  movement,  and  whoever  enters 
must  go  forward  and  upward.  He  passes  through 
region  after  region — finding  light  growing  around 
him  in  intensity,  movement  growing  more  rapid, 
and  music  more  sweet  the  higher  he  ascends  and 
the  nearer  he  approaches  the  ineffable  glory. 
Thus  through  the  heaven,  as  through  the  hell 
and  the  purgatory,  the  way  of  the  pilgrim  is  an 
advance.  But  it  is  more,  he  himself  is  changed, 
as  the  Apostle  said,  it  is  an  advance  from  "  glory 
to  glory."  Strange  and  wonderful  experiences 
are  his  as,  like  a  wanderer,  he  is  drawing  near  to 
his  home.  The  various  spheres  through  which 
he  passes  possess  their  characteristic  picturesque- 
ness,  beauty,  and  suggestiveness,  but  the  chief 
interest  is  centred  in  the  spiritual  conditions 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  195 

which   these   various   abodes   of  the  blessed   are 
meant  to  set  forth. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  enter  upon  any  critical 
account  of  the  ten  heavens  of  the  Paradiso.  It 
is  enough  for  our  aim  to  keep  in  mind  the  general 
picture  which  Dante  gives  us.  His  Paradise  of 
ten  heavens  is  divided  into  a  threefold  division. 
Three  planets  (the  Moon  being  accounted  one), 
three  planets — the  Moon,  Mercury,  and  Venus — 
belong  to  the  first  division.  Over  these  the  shadow 
of  the  earth  lies.  Four  planets  (the  Sun  being 
accounted  as  one),  four  planets — the  Sun,  Mars, 
Jupiter,  and  Saturn — form  the  second  division. 
The  remaining  heavens,  three  in  number,  are  the 
Starry  Heaven,  the  Heaven  of  Initial  Movement, 
and  the  Heaven  of  Peace.  Through  these  the 
golden  stairway  mounts.  Peace  presides  over  the 
souls  of  all  within  the  borders  of  Paradise,  for 
though  they  appear  now  in  one  realm,  now  in 
another  of  Paradise,  yet  the  dwelling-place  of  all 
is  in  the  highest  heaven,  where  all  is  peace,  because 
love,  burning  love,  is  centred  there.  There  is 
no  need  of  mental  questioning,  for  there  all  is 
light :  there  is  no  need  of  heart  trouble,  for  all 
is  love  :  there  is  no  disturbance  of  soul,  for  all 
is  peace.  Not  only  do  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest,  but  all  doubt, 
dismay,  and  discord  pass  away  from  harmonised 


196    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

souls,  who,  in  their  final  vision,  wake  up  after 
God's  likeness  and  are  satisfied  with  it. 

The  heavens,  while  serving  to  illustrate  special 
virtues  or  qualities,  are  linked  together  in  an 
orderly  spiritual  sequence. 

The  soul  in  heaven  must  begin  with  the  graces. 
In  our  human  order  we  are  often  led  to  think  of 
the  virtues  as  qualities  which  may  be  acquired  by 
vigilance  and  self-discipline,  and  which,  being 
acquired,  still  lack  the  graces  which  the  power  of 
God  may  supply.  We  can  become  prudent, 
brave,  just,  and  temperate  ;  but  faith,  hope,  and 
charity  must  be  bestowed  from  on  high  :  they  are 
the  spiritual  aftermath  of  the  harvest  of  diligent 
endeavour.  But  in  heaven  the  order  is  reversed  : 
our  virtues  must  be  the  outcome  of  graces,  and 
the  graces  will  again  crown  the  acquisition  of 
virtue.  The  first  three  heavens  tell  us  that 
faith,  hope,  and  charity  must  fill  the  soul  before 
prudence,  fortitude,  justice,  and  temperance  can 
be  ours  in  their  full  volitional  energy.  And  is  it  a 
mere  fancy  which  sees  in  the  last  three  heavens 
the  perfecting  of  the  graces  after  the  soul  has 
been  duly  furnished  with  the  virtues  ? 

At  any  rate,  the  heavens  are  progressive  :  they 
illustrate  not  only  fitting  habitations  of  souls 
endowed  with  some  special  qualities,  but  stages 
also  in  the  upward  progress  of  the  soul. 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  197 

It  has  been  said  that  Dante  in  the  Paradiso  is 
a  medievalist.  We  may  admit  that  we  meet 
with  discourses  in  this  cantica  which  must  seem 
tedious  and  inconclusive  to  us.  The  strange 
mixing — muddling  it  appears  to  our  minds — of 
arguments  metaphysical  with  facts  from  the 
physical  world  repels  our  interest.  The  pro- 
longed discourse  on  the  spots  on  the  Moon  (C.  ii.) 
can  only  have  an  antiquarian  interest.  The  argu- 
ment on  behalf  of  the  sanctity  of  Imperial  power 
is  mingled  with  puerile  exegesis.  The  influence 
of  mediaeval  thought  and  method  is  evident.  It 
was  inevitable  that  this  should  be  the  case. 
Dante  is  the  child  of  his  age  ;  and,  as  is  natural, 
he  shows  the  influence  of  mediaeval  thought  most 
strongly  when  he  deals  with  theological  or  meta- 
physical subjects.  Then  his  imagination  is  not 
wholly  free,  and  he  speaks  with  the  voice  of  the 
schools.  We  meet,  therefore,  the  mediaeval  tone 
in  those  discourses  in  the  Paradiso  in  which  the 
poet  represents  himself  as  being  examined  on  the 
questions  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity.  But  if  the 
stamp  of  mediaevalism  is  clearly  discernible  in 
these  conversations,  Dante  knows  when  to  smile 
at  scholastic  conceits,  and  can  on  occasion  hold  his 
own  judgment  against  the  most  venerated  names. 
He  differs  with  Aquinas  on  two  matters — on 
confession  and  on  the  Papal  power.  On  confession 


198    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

he  takes  the  earlier  and  more  ethical  view  :  on 
the  Papal  power  he  takes  the  view  of  the  Ghibel- 
line  :  he  lays  down  principles  which  were  advocated 
later  by  Marsiglio  of  Padua  in  his  work  Defensor 
Pacts.  He  could  never  accept  the  idea  advocated 
by  Aquinas  that  the  power  of  the  Empire  had  been 
absorbed  in  or  united  with  that  of  the  Church. 
In  Aquinas'  view  the  Church  could  admit  no  rival 
to  herself  in  the  secular  state.  In  Dante's  view  the 
Imperial  power  was  heaven-born  and  consecrate. 
Dante  is  no  slavish  follower  of  the  great  doctors 
from  whom  he  learned  and  whom  he  reverenced. 

Dante  early  in  this  cantica  sets  forth  the  relation 
between  eternal  truth  and  its  human  form  of 
expression.  He  shows  keen  perception  of  the 
difference  between  formal  and  absolute  truth  :  he 
shows,  however,  his  common-sense  appreciation  of 
the  practical  values  of  earthly  forms,  even  though 
they  cannot  be  claimed  as  final  expressions  of 
truth.  We  are  taught  that  now  the  eternal  divine 
truth  may  link  itself  with  inadequate  human 
expressions  of  it.  As  he  moves  upward  Dante 
gazes  at  the  Sun  :  he  sees  into  the  heart  of  it  : 
sparkles  of  flame  are  showered  forth  from  it,  as 
close  packed  sparks  rush  from  iron  glowing  in  the 
forge.  With  the  increasing  outrush  of  power, 
daylight  seems  doubled.  From  the  Sun  he  turns 
to  gaze  now  upon  Beatrice,  whose  eyes  are  fixed 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  199 

with  rapt  intensity  upon  the  Sun.  Then  a  new 
and  strangely  exalting  sensation  came  to  him  :  he 
had  the  feeling  of  being  transfigured.  He  felt 
divinely  strong,  invigorated  with  power  as  of  a 
god,  such  a  sense  of  exalted  capacity  and  power 
of  godlikeness  was  his.  Whether  any  bodily 
change  was  wrought  in  him  he  knew  not :  he 
could  not  tell  whether  any  outward  signs  accom- 
panied this  inward  conviction  of  sudden  and 
glorious  difference.  The  love,  by  whose  effluence 
of  light  he  was  transfigured,  alone  could  tell  what 
happenings  accompanied  his  experience. 

His  experience  is  very  simple  and  suggestive  : 
there  is  first  a  direct  look  at  the  Sun,  when  light 
seems  doubled  :  there  is  then  a  look  at  Beatrice, 
and  he  feels  a  sense  of  personal  change  to  a 
godlike  energy. 

Beatrice,  let  us  say,  as  the  commentators  do, 
stands  for  Theology :  theology  gives  formal  ex- 
pression to  divine  truths  :  but  these  truths  in  their 
ultimate  verity  must  always  transcend  formal 
expression.  Dante,  in  common  with  all  thinking 
theologians,  holds  this  view.  What  he  is  able  to 
tell  is  only  a  feeble  and  halting  recollection  of  all 
he  saw.  When  "  within  that  heaven  which  most 
this  light  receives  "  he  beheld  things 

"...  which  to  repeat 
Nor  knows,  nor  can,  who  from  above  descends  j 


200    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

and  this  for  the  reason  that  in  beholding  the 
beatific  vision,  intellect  fails  to  grasp  all  that  is 
made  manifest,  and  memory  fails  to  retain  it. 

"  Our  intellect  ingulphs  itself  so  far 
That  after  it  the  memory  cannot  go." 

(Par.  i.  5-9-) 

Divine  truth  transcends  formal  expression  ; 
though  philosophically  inadequate,  yet  the  expres- 
sion of  it  may  nevertheless  be  the  means  of 
helping  the  soul  of  man  into  the  experience  of 
spiritual  harmony  with  God  :  and,  indeed,  because 
more  suited  to  man's  earthly  capacity,  formal 
theology  may  possess  this  power  in  a  degree  which 
no  formless  divine  truth  could  convey.  The 
power  to  grasp  eternal  truth  in  its  ultimate  reality 
is  beyond  man.  He  can  gaze  into  the  heart  of  the 
great  light  :  he  can  feel  it  to  be  a  light  which 
grows  in  intensity  and  power,  but  it  transcends 
his  capacity  :  it  is  vain  to  hope  to  grasp  it  :  its  very 
vastness  eludes  him  :  its  splendour  of  light  blinds 
him  :  its  very  magnificence  deprives  him  of  the  joy 
of  consciously  apprehending  it  and  of  personally 
embracing  it.  Hence,  while  realising  the  tran- 
scendent light  of  naked  and  unembodied  truth, 
man  needs  and  must  use  the  more  limited  but 
sweeter,  sweeter  because  more  familiar,  embodi- 
ment of  truth,  which,  though  less  splendid  and 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  201 

even  liable  to  anthropomorphic  limitations,  is 
more  accessible  and  practically  more  useful  to  the 
soul  of  man.  Beatrice,  then,  stands  for  theo- 
logical truth  made  comprehensible  to  man,  and 
so  capable  of  working  in  and  for  man  that  great 
readjustment  of  his  being  which  prepares  him  for 
further  heavenly  experiences. 

This  is  a  principle  constantly  recognised  and 
affirmed  :  we  find  it  in  one  form  or  another 
admitted  by  the  greater  spirits  among  men.  In 
the  interests  indeed  of  what  is  called  higher 
thought,  there  is  sometimes  shown  a  disdain  of 
all  dogmatic  form.  This  is  quite  intelligible, 
seeing  how  often  dogmas  have  been  exploited  by 
unintelligent  theologians,  and  how  often  theories 
have  been  enforced  in  a  perverse  and  unsympa- 
thetic spirit.  Dante  keeps  to  the  same  path  in 
this  matter  :  he  recognises  that  divine  truth  must 
transcend  human  expression,  and  he  also  realises 
the  value  of  human  forms  :  they  may  help  upward 
the  soul  which  looks  heavenward. 

Dante  implies  that  he  drew  his  power  to  mount 
from  Beatrice  :  Beatrice  looked  steadfastly  towards 
the  eternal  spheres  :  Dante's  gaze  was  fixed  on 
Beatrice.  If  Beatrice  stands  for  theology,  theology, 
to  be  powerful,  must  direct  its  gaze  aright  :  it  is 
not  a  skilful  system  of  dogmatics  which  will 
avail :  its  whole  outlook  must  be  Godward  :  it 


202    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

must  steadfastly  look  towards  the  central  love, 
otherwise  its  virtue  departs  from  it  :  Beatrice 
cannot  help  Dante  upward  except  Beatrice  look 
to  heaven. 

Like  Glaucus,  who,  having  tasted  the  herb 
which  revived  the  fish's  life,  was  transformed  into 
a  god  of  the  sea,  so  was  Dante  transformed  by 
the  light — not  which  came  from  the  eyes  of 
Beatrice,  but  the  divine  light  reflected  in  her  eyes 
as  she  gazed  heavenward.  With  this  transforma- 
tion Dante  knew  not  whether  he  was  in  the  body 
or  out  of  it  :  so  absorbed  was  he  by  new  influence 
that  former  sensations  of  self-consciousness  were 
suspended.  The  power  which  wrought  this  was 
not  that  of  Beatrice,  it  came  from  the  Supreme 
Fountain  of  all  power  :  it  was  a  manifestation  of 
that  power  which  to  Dante  was  the  eternal  central 
power  :  it  was  the  love  which  governs  heaven, 
which  lifted  him  with  its  light. 

Elsewhere  love  holds  high  place  in  the  experi- 
ences of  the  Paradiso.  As  it  was  love  which  built 
the  Inferno :  as  it  is  the  action  of  love,  now 
perverted,  slackened,  or  coarsened,  which  is  illus- 
trated in  the  Purgatorio  :  so  it  is  love  as  an  inspir- 
ing, uplifting  power,  bestowing  on  all  things  their 
true  worth  and  force,  which  meets  us  on  the 
threshold  of  the  Paradiso.  Human  forms  of  truth 
help  us  to  grasp  truth  greater  than  themselves  : 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  203 

for  even  as  we  grasp  the  form  we  are  sensible 
that  what  we  reach  must  transcend  all  earthly 
expression  of  it.  It  does  so  in  truth,  but,  never- 
theless, it  has  been  brought  more  within  our 
grasp  by  coming  to  us  through  the  human 
medium.  Truth,  like  the  Lord  of  truth,  must  be 
incarnate  for  us  to  grasp  it  ;  but  as  the  Christ  was 
said  by  the  creed  to  be  inferior  to  the  Father  as 
regards  His  manhood,  though  equal  to  the  Father 
as  regards  His  Godhead,  so  also  truth  as  it  comes 
to  us  is  inferior  to  all  divine  thought  as  regards 
its  earthly  form,  but  equal  to  the  divine  thought 
as  regards  its  heavenly  significance.  The  human 
expression  of  truth  is  but  the  medium  :  like  a 
mirror,  it  has  power  of  reflection,  but  the  power 
of  perfect  reflection  (Depends  upon  the  quality  and 
perfection  of  the  instrument.  In  Christ,  according 
to  the  Apostle,  there  dwelt  all  the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead  bodily.  "  He  that  hath  seen  me,"  said 
Christ,  "hath  seen  the  Father."  But  with  our 
poor,  limited  theological  instruments,  defective 
and  damaged,  we  cannot  expect  the  reflection  to 
be  perfect.  It  is  only  as  the  mirror  is  turned 
to  catch  the  rays  of  divine  light  that  it  can 
reflect  anything  :  Beatrice  must  look  to  the  Sun, 
if  her  eyes  are  to  reflect  heaven's  light.  Our 
theological  dogmas  must  be  interpenetrated  with 
divine  feeling  and  fitness.  Doctrines  are  dead 


204    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

things  unless  they  bring  us  into  contact  with 
divine  power.  As  in  God  we  live,  and  move, 
and  have  our  being  ;  so  human  teachings  only 
live  as  they  live  unto  God,  for  all  alike  live  only 
unto  Him. 

But  we  must  leave  this  matter,  and  note  the 
shadow  of  the  Paradise.  The  dark  cone  of  earth's 
shadow  fines  down  to  its  last  point  in  the  heaven 
of  Venus.  The  shadow  is  the  influence  of  the 
earthly  passion  which  marred  the  love  of  those 
whose  heaven  is  here.  The  personages  whom  we 
find  here  have  awakened  some  comment.  Cunizza 
da  Romano,  sister  of  Azzolino  the  tyrant,  whose 
character  was  dark-stained  by  her  licentious  con- 
duct, and  Rahab  the  harlot,  are  in  this  heaven. 
The  startling  fact  is  that  these  two  women,  whose 
lives,  by  all  admission,  were  smirched  with  sin, 
are  placed  by  Dante,  not  with  the  voluptuous 
circle  in  the  Inferno,  with  Dido  and  Semiramis 
and  the  unhappy  Paolo  and  Francesca,  but  in  this 
third  heaven,  less  darkened  by  earth's  shadow 
than  either  the  Moon  or  Mercury.  When  we 
think  of  poor  women,  whose  fall,  if  fall  it  were, 
was  due  to  force,  placed  lower  down  than  these 
two  women  who  sold  their  virtue  of  their  own 
free  choice,  we  are  staggered,  and  we  ask,  has 
Dante  lost  the  calm  spirit  of  just  judgment  ? 
Surely,  as  far  as  faults  are  concerned,  the  faults 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  205 

of  Cunizza  and  Rahab  are  far  darker  than  those 
of  Piccarda  and  Costanza. 

But  let  us  recall  the  fact  that  the  question  with 
Dante  in  the  Paradiso  is  not  to  point  out  the 
penalty  of  sin  :  the  burden  of  actual  sin  has  no 
place  or  power  in  Paradise.  Hell  may  weigh 
sins,  but  Paradise  does  not.  The  souls  we  meet 
in  the  heavens  were  those  who  would  acknowledge 
on  earth  their  sins,  but,  however  much  the  sins 
of  life  lay  heavy  on  their  souls  when  below,  now 
in  heaven  the  sense  of  burden  has  wholly  passed 
away  :  these  souls  have  doubtless  drunk  of  Lethe, 
and  have  entered  into  the  blessedness  of  those 
who  can  forget.  The  suggestion  made  by  many 
is  that  these  souls  have  passed  through  the  period 
of  repentance  :  they  have  tasted  forgiveness,  and 
they  are  entitled  to  believe  that  their  sins  have 
been  put  away.  Thus  we  are  told  by  some  that 
Cunizza  da  Romano  spent  her  later  years  in 
penitence  and  kindly  ministry  to  the  needy.  All 
this  may  be  true,  and  Dante  may  have  realised 
it  and  appreciated  the  significance  of  such  a  close 
to  a  life  whose  early  years  were  deeply  stained. 
But  I  am  inclined  to  see  in  Dante's  treatment  of 
this  matter  another  meaning.  Dante,  as  we  have 
seen,  shows  with  inexorable  sternness  the  con- 
sequences of  wrong-doing  :  of  this  unswerving 
severity  the  lot  of  Paolo  and  Francesca  is  the 


206    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

pathetic  proof ;  but  in  his  general  estimate  of 
human  faults,  this  weakness  of  the  flesh  is  treated 
by  him  as  less  hateful  than  others.  Shall  I  say 
that  he  treats  this  fault  with  an  almost  gentle 
hand  ?  I  can  hardly  say  this  in  presence  of  the 
fact  I  have  cited  ;  but  I  think  I  am  right  in 
saying  that  he  feels  less  repugnance  to  this  fault 
than  to  those  which  betray  meanness,  cruelty, 
cunning,  fraud,  or  treachery  :  his  heart,  moreover, 
is  more  with  the  sinner  than  with  the  hypocrite  : 
he  wishes  to  show  that  faults  like  these  may 
coexist  with  bright,  amiable,  and  attractive  yet 
magnanimous  qualities.  Are  we  wrong  in  calling 
attention  to  the  fact  that  there  is  often  found 
more  sweetness  and  lovableness,  more  singleness 
and  simplicity  of  soul  among  such  sinners  than 
among  the  pretentious  religionists  who  are  careful 
to  keep  within  the  conventional  borders  of  social 
order  ?  I  think  Dante  remembered  Him  who  said  : 
"  The  publicans  and  harlots  go  into  the  Kingdom 
of  God  before  you."  If  we  read  the  context  and 
hear  how  he  breaks  forth  indignantly  against  the 
corruptions,  defalcations,  and  greed  of  Church 
authorities,  we  shall  the  less  wonder  that  he  took 
a  fierce  gladness  in  placing  Cunizza  and  Rahab 
in  this  heaven  shadowed  with  the  faint  shadow 
of  these  earthly  faults.  He  realises — does  he 
not  ? — that  his  action  may  cause  some  dismay  or 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  207 

surprise  to  the  commonplace  or  conventional  mind. 
He  pictures  Cunizza  free  from  the  heavy  memories 
and  self-reproaches  of  the  past.  She  cries  : 

"  Gladly  do  I  pardon  to  myself 
The  cause  of  this  my  lot,  and  it  grieves  me  not, 
Which  would  haply  seem  hard  saying  to  your  vulgar." 

(See  Par.  ix.  32-36.) 

Dante,  in  short,  as  it  seems  to  me,  had  not  only 
knowledge  of  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  which 
were  to  him  "the  Word  divine"  (Par.  xxiv.  99), 
but  he  had  drank  deeply  into  the  spirit  of  the 
Evangel  :  he  had  read  of  the  gracious  love  which 
received  the  Magdalen,  which  cast  a  protecting 
shield  over  the  woman  taken  in  adultery,  and 
which  sought  to  win  the  tarnished  woman  of 
Samaria.  Is  it  surprising,  then,  that  he  should 
rejoice  to  place  in  his  heaven  the  thrice-married 
Cunizza  and  the  harlot  Rahab  ?  He  could  plead 
the  Scripture  record  of  faith  for  the  right  of 
Rahab  to  be  there,  and  the  example  of  the  woman 
of  Samaria  for  his  treatment  of  Cunizza.  No 
one  who  has  entered  into  the  spirit  of  Dante  will 
accuse  him  of  slackness  in  dealing  with  this  sad 
fault ;  but,  as  we  recognise  the  stern  measure  he 
dealt  out  to  it  in  the  Inferno,  we  ought  to  recognise 
the  loving  tenderness  with  which  he  rejoiced  over 
the  fallen  whom  his  divine  Master  had  welcomed 
to  His  side. 


208    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

It  is,  moreover,  in  this  heaven  of  Venus  that 
we  hear  the  philosophical  discussion  on  inborn 
qualities  and  gifts  :  its  conclusion  is  that  the  best 
natures  are  sometimes  turned  aside  by  the  chances 
of  their  lot  : 

"Evermore  nature,  if  it  fortune  find 

Discordant  to  it,  like  each  other  seed 
Out  of  its  region,  maketh  evil  thrift." 

(Par.  viii.  139-141.) 

There  are  always  to  be  found  poor  souls  whom 
we  are  tempted  to  condemn  with  harshness,  but 
who,  in  popular  language,  may  be  more  sinned 
against  than  sinning  :  to  know  all  is,  according 
to  the  French  proverb,  to  forgive  all.  One  there 
was  who  said  to  the  woman  weeping  at  his  feet, 
"  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee  :  go  and  sin  no 
more."  Remembering  all  this,  and  remembering 
the  chivalry  of  heart  which  Dante  bore  to  woman- 
hood, I  am  not  surprised  that  he  finds  in  his 
heaven  room  for  these  two  fallen  ones,  types  of 
those  to  whom  the  Lord  Christ  showed  such 
ready  forgiveness  and  compassion. 

Prudence  is  the  virtue  with  which  the  spirits 
in  the  fourth  heaven  are  expected  to  be  adorned. 
Appropriately  the  solid  sanity  which  marked 
Dante's  wide  sympathy  finds  expression  in  this 
heaven  of  the  Sun.  It  is  the  heaven  consecrated 
to  the  theologians.  In  the  choice  of  the  Sun  as  the 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  209 

special  haunt  of  the  theologian,  Dante  shows  us 
his  lofty  ideal  of  theology.  Theology,  the  science 
of  the  knowledge  of  God,  is  to  him  the  queen  of 
all  sciences.  We  shall  not  dispute  the  position. 
If  to  know  God  is  everlasting  life,  then  the 
science  which  leads  to  this  knowledge  must  hold 
a  place  high  above  all  other  kinds  of  knowledge. 
From  the  standpoint  of  this  ideal,  theology  may 
challenge  every  science. 

But  the  ideal  is  one  thing  :  the  real  is,  alas  ! 
another.  Even  in  Apostolic  days  there  were 
theological  debates,  which  St  Paul  described  as 
disputes  about  words  :  and  the  Apostle  showed  a 
wise  intolerance  of  empty  discussion.  The  truth 
is  that  theology  in  endeavouring  to  become  a 
science  became  a  speculative  philosophy :  in  en- 
deavouring to  be  logical  it  became  rationalistic  : 
in  endeavouring  to  satisfy  the  logic  of  the  mind 
it  forgot  the  syllogisms  of  the  heart.  It  starved 
the  soul  in  trying  to  appease  the  reason.  It 
ceased  to  be  a  science,  for  in  secluding  itself 
within  the  chamber  of  premises  and  conclusions 
it  silenced  the  capacities  by  which  alone  God  can 
be  known.  In  trying  to  describe  God  it  deprived 
the  soul  of  the  power  to  receive  Him.  In  the 
excursions  of  logical  speculation  it  forgot  that 
by  love  alone  God,  who  is  love,  can  be  known. 
The  clear-visioned  statements  of  Apostles  were  too 


210    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

often  lost  sight  of  by  scholastic  teachers,  who 
certainly  did  not  remember  that  St  John  had 
said,  "  He  that  loveth  not  knoweth  not  God/'  and 
that  St  Paul  had  prayed  that  his  flock  might  be 
rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  that  so  they  might 
comprehend  the  love  of  Christ  which  passeth 
knowledge. 

Now  Dante's  breadth  and  sanity  enable  him  to 
reverence  ideal  theology,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to 
mark  the  weaknesses  which  attach  to  the  human 
attempts  to  give  it  expression.  The  form  given 
to  divine  truth  by  human  teachers  had  its  value  : 
truth  absolute  might  be  recognised  by  man  as 
ideally  and  eternally  existent,  but  it  could  not, 
unless  translated  into  some  form  intelligible  to 
men,  be  operative  in  helping  the  soul  upward. 
This  he  taught  early  in  his  Paradise,  as  we  have 
seen.  The  divine  light  must  be  reflected  in 
the  eyes  of  Beatrice,  i.e.  interpreted  in  human 
form. 

But  the  interpretations  given  by  men  are  many. 
In  his  day  Thomas  Aquinas,  Albertus  Magnus, 
Peter  Lombard,  Bonaventura,  Anselm,  Hugh  of 
St  Victor  were  leaders  of  theological  thought. 
Differences  marked  their  teaching  :  the  law  of 
charity  was  not  always  strong  enough  to  control 
the  passion  of  controversy  :  great  teachers  were 
often  swift  to  search  out  heresy  in  their  rivals  : 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  211 

men  of  earnest  convictions  would  persecute  in- 
tellectual opponents  unto  death.  Dante,  with  a 
sublime  indifference  to  controversial  bitterness, 
and  deaf  even  to  cries  of  heresy,  draws  together 
in  the  heaven  of  the  Sun  the  teachers  of  rival 
schools.  Those  who  believed  that  knowledge  led 
the  way  to  love,  move  in  the  same  heaven  with 
those  who  taught  that  love  opened  the  door  to 
knowledge. 

He  selects  twelve,  who  form  a  starry  circle 
around  himself  and  Beatrice  :  beyond  this  another 
starry  circle  is  formed,  and  even  beyond  this  a 
third  circle  twinkles  and  brightens.  The  nearer 
circle  represents  theologians  of  what  was  called 
the  Dominican  type  of  theology  :  the  next  circle 
represents  the  theologian  of  the  Franciscan  type. 
The  keynote  of  the  inner  or  first  circle  is  know- 
ledge :  the  keynote  of  the  circle  encompassing  it 
is  love  :  these  star-like  theologians  shine  bright 
even  against  the  brightness  of  the  Sun.  Thus 
men  differing  in  gift  and  in  type  of  teaching  are 
made  one  in  the  region  of  wider  and  clearer 
heavenly  light.  Dante  measures  them,  not  by 
their  differences  nor  by  their  mistakes,  but  by  the 
something  good  or  true  which  they  communicated  „ 
to  their  fellow-men.  He  values  each  for  what  he 
was,  and  for  what  of  good  he  did.  He  was  an 
admirer  of  Aquinas  :  he  drew  many  of  his  theo- 


212    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

logical  conceptions  from  his  writings,  but  he  could 
recognise  the  worth  and  value  of  other  teachers 
also.  He  could  not  share  the  party  spirit  which 
exalted  one  teacher  over  another  :  he  could  be  a 
disciple  of  any  thinker  who  had  some  truth  to 
teach,  but  he  would  not  be  brought  in  bondage  of 
any  :  he  could  be  a  learner  from  any  teacher  :  he 
would  refuse  to  be  a  partisan.  He  realised  the 
width  of  riches  of  the  Church's  inheritance :  like  a 
true  disciple  of  St  Paul,  he  refused  to  say,  "  I  am 
of  Paul,  or  I  am  of  Apollos,  or  I  am  of  St  Thomas 
Aquinas,  or  1  am  of  Bonaventura."  All  teachers 
were  his  :  this  was  his  lawful  inheritance  :  all  were 
his,  whether  Paul,  or  Apollos,  or  Cephas,  or 
St  Dominic,  or  St  Francis  (i  Cor.  iii.).  Here  is 
the  token  of  that  intellectual  and  spiritual  breadth 
which  welcomed  help  from  all  quarters  or  from  all 
messengers  of  truth. 

But  this  is  not  all  :  Dante,  keen  logician  as 
he  is,  lover  of  subtle  argument,  courageous  to 
attack  difficult  problems,  is,  nevertheless,  alive  to 
practical  values.  It  is  not  without  meaning  that 
he  introduces  Solomon  among  the  teachers  to 
whom  knowledge  was  the  gateway  of  love.  In 
the  discussion  which  he  introduces  respecting 
Solomon,  he  calls  attention  to  the  actual  purpose 
of  knowledge  and  wisdom  :  its  value  is  not 
speculative,  or  to  satisfy  the  pride  of  curiosity, 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  213 

it  is  for  service,  for  the  fulfilment   of   assigned 
function.     Such  is  seen  in  the  case  of  Solomon  : 

"  Clearly  he  was  a  king  who  asked  for  wisdom, 

That  he  might  be  sufficiently  a  king  ; 
'Twas  not  to  know  the  number  in  which  are 
The  motors  here  above,  or  if  necesse 
With  a  contingent  e'er  necesse  make, 
Non  si  est  dare  prlmum  motum  esse^ 
Or  if  in  semicircle  can  be  made 
Triangle  so  that  it  have  no  right  angle." 

(Par.  xiii.  95-102.) 

And  thence  the  lesson  of  charitable  hesitancy 
in  judgment  is  drawn.  We  cannot  judge  except 
as  we  know  the  end  and  purpose  of  things  :  hence 
judgment  should  not  be  hasty,  it  should  be  slow 
of  foot : 

"...  lead  shall  this  be  always  to  thy  feet, 
To  make  thee  like  a  weary  man,  move  slowly 
Both  to  the  c  Yes  '  and  c  No  '  thou  seest  not ; 

For  very  low  among  the  fools  is  he 

Who  affirms  without  distinction,  or  denies, 
As  well  in  one  as  in  the  other  case  ; 

Because  it  happens  that  full  often  bends 
Current  opinion  in  the  false  direction, 
And  then  the  feelings  bind  the  intellect." 

(Par.  xiii.  112-120.) 

The  full  strength  of  this  large  outlook  of 
Dante  is  not  realised  unless  we  note  that  in  the 


2i4    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Dominic  circle  Sigieri  is  found  beside  Thomas 
Aquinas  :  and  Joachim  of  Flora  beside  St  Bona- 
ventura.  Sigieri  joined  in  the  disputes  which 
took  place  in  Paris  :  he  was  opposed  to  the 
Dominican  claims  in  the  matter  :  Thomas  Aquinas 
in  1260  entered  the  lists  against  him,  and  sought 
publicly  to  refute  him.  The  theology  of  Joachim 
of  Flora  was  distasteful  to  Bonaventura  :  he  re- 
garded his  followers  as  heretics.  Dante,  alive  to 
the  good  in  each,  places  Sigieri  next  to  Thomas 
Aquinas'  left  hand  :  and  Joachim  next  to  Bona- 
ventura. 

Who  are  we  to  j  udge  or  to  charge  too  readily 
with  heresy  men  who  are  trying  each  in  their  way 
to  let  God's  light  pass  out  through  them  to  the 
world  ?  The  Church,  alas  !  has  too  often  been 
forward  to  quench  the  smoking  flax  and  to  crush 
the  bruised  reed  :  so  doing  she  has  lost  music 
and  light.  It  is  not  for  us  to  judge  before  the 
harvest,  says  Dante,  with  remembrance  of  Christ's 
parable,  to  count 

"  The  corn  in  field  or  ever  it  be  ripe. 
For  I  have  seen  all  winter  long  the  thorn 
First  show  itself  intractable  and  fierce, 
And  after  bear  the  rose  upon  its  top." 

(Par.  xiii.  132-135.) 

But  as  many  that  are  last  may  be  first,  so  also 
the  first  may  be  last. 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  215 

"  And  I  have  seen  a  ship  direct  and  swift 

Run  o'er  the  sea  throughout  its  course  entire, 
To  perish  at  the  harbour's  mouth  at  last." 

(Par.  xiii.  136-138.) 

Thus,  as  the  great  theologians  are  seen  splendid 
in  the  heaven  of  the  Sun,  the  warning  against 
harsh  and  hasty  judgments  is  given  by  Dante. 
Whether  men  followed  the  school  of  St  Francis 
or  St  Dominic,  they  might  find  their  way  to 
heaven.  But  yet,  "let  him  that  thinketh  he  standeth 
take  heed  lest  he  fall,"  and  let  none  venture  to 
take  the  final  judgment  into  his  hands  ;  for  be- 
yond the  recognised  schools  bright  lights  may  be 
found.  Outside  the  second  circle  the  limits  of 
another,  wider  and  greater,  were  seen  : 

"  And  lo  !   all  round  about  of  equal  brightness 
Arose  a  lustre  over  what  was  there, 
Like  an  horizon  that  is  clearing  up. 

And  as  at  rise  of  early  eve  begin 
Along  the  welkin  new  appearances, 
So  that  the  sight  seems  real  and  unreal, 

It  seemed  to  me  that  new  subsistences 

Began  there  to  be  seen,  and  make  a  circle 
Outside  the  other  two  circumferences. 

O  very  sparkling  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 

How  sudden  and  incandescent  it  became 
Unto  mine  eyes,  that  vanquished  bore  it  not." 

(Par.  xiv.  67-78.) 


2i 6    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

This  third  circle  has  given  rise  to  many 
questions — what  does  it  signify  ?  Does  it  cele- 
brate some  other  school  of  thought  ?  If  so,  what 
school  ?  Dr  Carroll  suggests  that  the  circle 
embraces  the  followers  of  Joachim.  But,  if  so, 
Joachim,  who  appears  in  the  earlier  circle,  would 
be  separated  from  his  followers.  Is  not  the  third 
circle  the  hint  of  some  further  light  of  truth  which 
may  be  expected  as  the  great  order  of  God's 
providence  moves  forward  ?  The  lights  of  the 
theological  firmament  are  not  exhausted  by  the 
companies  gathered  in  the  first  two  circles.  God 
has  other  light  to  break  forth  for  men,  even  as 
Christ  has  sheep  "  not  of  this  fold."  This  third 
circle  is  a  great  figurative  mode  of  expressing 
faith  in  the  dawning  of  light,  more  light  upon 
mankind.  Christ  is  the  light  of  the  world  ;  but 
the  full  glory  of  that  light  is  only  perceived  as 
ages  of  spiritual  teaching  open  men's  eyes  to  see. 
We  need  not  believe  that  any  set  of  men  were 
empowered  to  lock  the  gate  of  knowledge  and  to 
throw  away  the  key.  As  long  as  the  soul  can 
aspire,  the  conscience  speak,  the  mind  think,  and 
the  heart  feel,  so  long  will  there  be  theologians 
in  the  world  ;  for  men  will  always  seek  to  give 
expression  to  their  religious  consciousness,  till 
that  day  comes  when  we  shall  know  even  as  we  are 
known,  and  when,  as  Dante  hoped,  fervent  love 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  217 

would  clear  the    vision,  and    perfection    absolute 
would  be  acquired  (Par.  xiii.  79-81). 

Passing  to  the  next  heaven  we  reach  the  red 
planet  Mars ;  the  sign  of  the  cross  is  on  it,  and 
on  the  cross  gleams  the  form  of  Christ.  It  is 
the  heaven  of  those  who  were  soldiers  of  the 
cross,  faithful  unto  death.  Fortitude  is  needed 
here.  We  are  not  now  bidden  to  behold  the 
teachers  and  doctors.  Here  are  the  heroes  of 
the  faith.  Here  the  voice  cries  for  courage,  and 
martial  music  calls  to  the  heart,  "Arise  and 
conquer."  Here  the  sacrificial  spirit  is  needed; 
and,  fitly,  as  the  pilgrim  enters  this  heaven 
which  glowed  with  a  hue  more  ruddy  than  its 
wont,  the  ardour  of  sacrifice  passes  into  his 
soul  :  he  is  ready  to  take  up  the  cross,  yes,  or 
to  suffer  the  cross  and  follow  Christ.  Love,  the 
love  which  can  endure  pain  and  loss,  thrills  him 
with  heroic  enthusiasm  :  his  heart  speaks  the 
language  of  loving  devotion  ;  the  offering  of  his 
whole  heart  he  makes 

"  In  that  dialect 
Which  is  the  same  in  all." 

(Par.  xiv.  88.) 

The  joy  of  sacrifice  is  his  :  the  love  of 
earthly  or  lower  things  seems  hopelessly  un- 
worthy : 


218    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

"  'Tis  well  that  without  end  he  should  lament, 
Who  for  the  love  of  thing  that  doth  not  last 
Eternally  despoils  him  of  that  love  !  " 

(Par.  xv.  10-12.) 

In  this  heaven,  besides  Cacciaguida  his  kinsman, 
Joshua,  Judas  Maccabaeus,  Charlemagne,  and 
Godfrey  de  Bouillon  find  place.  Love  may  be 
fostered  by  knowledge,  and  sacred  theology  may 
therefore  help  the  souls  of  men  to  the  fuller 
apprehension  of  divine  love  ;  but,  if  love  is  to 
grow  vigorous,  it  must  learn  exercise  through 
courage  :  it  must  share  the  sacrificial  spirit  of  the 
cross.  Its  quality  grows  purer  in  this  experience. 
"  Can  the  Haoma,"  asked  Zarathustra,  "  can  the 
Haoma  that  has  been  touched  by  the  corpse  of 
a  dead  dog  or  the  corpse  of  a  dead  man  be 
made  clean  again  ? "  Ahura  Mazda  answered  : 
"  It  can,  O  Holy  Zarathustra,  if  it  has  been 
strained  for  the  sacrifice  :  no  corpse  that  has  been 
brought  unto  it  makes  corruption  or  death  enter 
into  it."  Similarly,  he  that  dies  with  Christ 
gains  life  beyond  the  power  of  corruption :  for 
"he  that  is  dead  is  freed  from  sin."  Love 
takes  on  new  lustre  and  new  life-power  in  the 
heaven  of  the  Heroes  of  the  Cross.  In  olden 
days  these  heroes  were  the  martyrs  like  St 
Stephen,  Polycarp,  St  Cyprian :  in  modern  days 
they  are  the  missionary  martyrs  of  the  cross, 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  219 

Williams,  Livingstone  and  Moffat,  Bishops  Sel- 
wyn  and  Hannington. 

If  the  fourth  heaven  shows  us  love  enlarged  to 
the  toleration  of  differences  and  the  welcome  of 
spiritual  help  from  all  quarters,  the  fifth  heaven 
sounds  the  call  to  courageous  service,  inspired  by 
Him  who  transfigured  suffering  with  the  glory 
which  shone  from  His  cross. 

But  love,  as  an  impelling  force,  needs  the  curb 
of  justice.  Therefore,  in  the  sixth  heaven  the 
pilgrim  gains  from  the  eagle-light  of  those  who 
showed  this  great  virtue,  precious  in  all,  invalu- 
able in  rulers.  Here  the  great  tide  of  political 
interest  might  well  carry  us  away.  Dante,  firm 
in  his  faith  that  the  Emperor  held,  no  less  than 
the  Pope,  a  consecrated  office,  naturally  passes 
into  meditations  and  discussions  respecting  the 
relation  of  civil  and  ecclesiastical  responsibility. 
It  is  the  heaven  of  Jupiter — fit  emblem  of  the 
dwelling  of  those  who  were  kings  among  men. 
The  spirits  there,  like  stars,  group  themselves  in 
the  form  of  an  eagle,  and  from  the  eagle's  mouth 
comes  the  voice  of  "the  associated  spirits,"  as 
Mr  Tozer  calls  them.  Righteousness  is  in  rulers 
the  highest  wisdom,  and  true  love,  which  draws 
all  virtues  into  itself,  must  absorb  this  one. 
Hence  Dante  finds  occasion  to  denounce  "the 
unjust  or  selfish  or  thoughtless  rule  which  has 


220    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

brought  so  many  evils  in  its  train."  To  follow 
this,  however,  would  lead  us  from  our  true 
path  now. 

But,  as  we  accompany  the  pilgrim  through 
this  heaven,  we  meet  once  more  with  indications 
of  Dante's  courageous  sense  of  right.  Here, 
in  company  with  David,  Hezekiah,  Constantine, 
we  find  two  pagan  souls,  Trajan  and  Ripheus. 
Commentators  are  naturally  inclined  to  inquire 
the  reason  for  thus  placing  high  in  heaven, 
heathen  who  might  more  appropriately  have 
found  place  in  the  limbo  of  the  Inferno. 

It  is  easy,  of  course,  to  point  out  that  some 
other  characters  might  have  been  selected  ;  but 
it  is  only  a  sign  of  pitiful  literalism  to  say  with 
one  commentator,  "This  is  a  fiction  of  the 
author;  for  there  is  no  proof  that  Ripheus  the 
Trojan  is  saved."  Of  course  not  :  the  remark 
applies  to  thousands  of  others  ;  it  is  a  criticism 
which  shows  some  slumberfulness  on  the  critic's 
part.  There  is  no  certain  authority  behind 
the  judgment,  of  Dante  respecting  the  various 
persons  he  introduces  ;  it  is  possible  that  many 
whom  he  thrust  into  the  Inferno  have  their  place 
in  heaven.  To  enter  upon  such  a  question  as 
this  is  to  challenge  the  right  of  the  poet  to  his 
own  imagination  :  to  say  that  he  might  have  found 
heathen  worthier  of  this  place  in  heaven  is  to 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  221 

enter  upon  an  investigation  too  large  to  be  profit- 
able. Does  it  not  lie  on  the  face  of  the  matter 
that  here  again  Dante  desires  to  affirm  his  belief 
that  many  are  first  who  shall  be  last,  and  the  last 
first  ?  Is  he  not  bidding  us  to  recall  the  saying 
of  Christ  that  some  may  come  from  the  East  and 
the  West  and  sit  down  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob,  while  the  children  of  the  kingdom  shall  be 
cast  out  ?  He  read  the  touching  tale  of  Trajan's 
charity  to  the  widow  :  he  remembered  how  his 
guide  and  master  Virgil  had  spoken  of  Ripheus 
as  the  most  just  among  the  Trojans  :  he  felt 
that  such  were  spirits  "  naturally  Christian,"  and 
he  boldly  placed  them  in  the  heaven,  firmly  con- 
vinced that  to  such  souls  the  revelation  of  Christ's 
love  had  been  somewhere  disclosed. 

The  explanations  given  need  not  detain  us.  It 
is  the  spirit  of  Dante  on  this  matter  which  interests 
us  ;  and  in  his  joy  over  the  depths  of  divine  grace 
we  feel  the  reaching  out  of  his  heart  in  charity  to 
all.  Love  is  the  keynote  of  the  Divina  Commedia, 
as  it  is  the  central  force  in  Dante's  character.  The 
pressure  of  love's  joy  in  Dante's  heart  finds  utter- 
ance at  this  moment  in  one  of  his  most  beautiful 
images.  The  eagle  speaks  sweet  words  of  divine 
grace  :  it  far  surpasses  poor  human  thought :  in 
the  erring  world  who  would  believe  that  Ripheus 
the  Trojan  would  find  place  among  these  holy 


222    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

lights  :  nay,  even  Ripheus,  now  with  enlarged 
views  of  things  divine,  cannot  fathom  the  deeps 
of  God's  dear  love.  The  words  are  sweet  as  the 
lark's  song,  splendid,  satisfying.  There  follows 
the  image  which  has  evoked  such  widespread 
admiration  : 

u  Like  as  a  lark  that  in  the  air  expatiates, 

First  singing  and  then  silent  with  content 
Of  the  last  sweetness  that  doth  satisfy  her, 
Such  seemed  to  me  the  image  of  the  imprint 
Of  that  eternal  pleasure,  by  whose  will 
Doth  everything  become  the  thing  it  is." 

(Par.  xx.  73-78.) 

To  mount  to  the  highest  realms  of  heaven,  the 
pilgrim  must  climb  the  golden  ladder.  This 
ladder  rises  from  the  heaven  of  Self-control. 
Contemplation  takes  the  place  of  action.  The 
soul,  disciplined  to  self-control,  is  now  in  perfect 
self-mastery,  made  ready  for  a  further  movement 
upward.  The  sphere  of  action,  with  its  distract- 
ing claims,  is  left  behind  :  the  mind  once  more 
is  fixed  on  things  above  :  not  even  the  innocent 
and  needful  duties  of  theologian  or  warrior  or 
ruler  find  place  here.  "Ab  exterioribus  ad  in- 
teriora,"  said  St  Bernard;  and  again,  "ab  in- 
terioribus  ad  superiora."  We  are  in  the  truly 
mystical  belt  of  the  Paradise.  The  transition  is 
through  the  Fixed  Stars  and  the  Primum  Mobile 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  223 

to  the  Empyrean — to  the  central  divine  abode  of 
love.  The  pilgrim  sees  the  Celestial  Rose,  the 
great  company  of  those  whose  names  are  written 
in  heaven  :  in  that  heaven  Beatrice  takes  her 
place,  and  St  Bernard  comes  to  act  as  guide  to 
Dante.  The  emblem  of  theology  gives  way  to 
guidance  of  a  more  mystic  quality. 

Dante's  powers  of  insight  grow  as  he  passes 
onward  :  he  is  invigorated  with  strength  for  the 
last  and  highest  vision. 

So  Dante  sped  upwards  to  the  central  light  of 
all,  and,  after  prayer  in  which  all  the  spirits  in 
glory  seem  to  join,  high  resolve  and  ardour  grew 
strong  within  him.  His  sight  was  purified  and 
he  entered  more  and  more  into  the  glory  of  the 
divine  light.  But  the  excess  of  splendour  over- 
whelmed him  :  memory  vainly  strove  to  hold 
the  vision  :  yet  there  came  into  his  heart  a 
sweetness  born  of  what  he  saw,  and  he  longed  to 
bequeath  by  his  utterance  to  future  ages  if  but  a 
single  sparkle  of  that  glory. 

His  gaze  wedded  itself  to  the  splendour,  so 
that  he  saw  all  created  things,  all  divine  opera- 
tions, all  the  pages  of  the  universe  bound  up 
with  love  as  in  one  volume.  More  he  saw,  for 
his  mind,  after  gazing,  was  kindled  to  a  fervour 
of  perception  :  and  with  his  strengthened  sight 
he  beheld,  well  knowing  that  the  eternal  light 


224    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

itself  did  not  change,  three  circles,  threefold  in 
colour,  like  rainbow  reflected  from  rainbow  ;  and 
faint  tinted,  the  human  lay  within  the  divine. 
Like  a  lightning  flash  it  was  given  him  to  see 
how  this  could  be,  but,  even  at  the  moment  of 
this  supremest  revelation,  vigour  failed.  But 
though  perceptive  energy  failed,  power — new 
power  of  resolution  and  ardour — entered  into 
him  ;  he  found  his  will  and  desire  caught  up  by 
the  resistless  might  of  that  love  by  which  the 
sun,  the  stars,  and  all  creation  moves. 

Thus  with  the  vision  of  God  this  great  pilgrim- 
age ends.  All  the  regions  traversed  have  given 
their  tale  and  taught  their  lesson  :  in  every 
experience  Dante  has  had  some  share.  But  what 
he  reached  in  this  final  vision  was  not  detailed 
knowledge  :  it  was,  as  far  as  mind  goes,  the 
realisation  of  all  things  in  God  :  of  God  in  His 
threefold  nature,  and  of  the  manhood  taken  into 
God.  His  vision  added  nothing  to  knowledge  ; 
but  it  gave  what  was  more  precious  than 
knowledge  :  it  brought  the  inspiration  of  love  as 
an  empowering  energy  to  his  wish  and  to  his 
will.  By  searching  out  he  could  not  fathom  the 
measureless  depths  of  the  Divine  Nature,  but  by 
drawing  near  to  God  he  could  become  partaker 
of  that  Divine  Nature,  which  is  love. 

Thus  the  last  great  scene  of  this  great  poem 


VICTORY  OF  LOVE  225 

shows  us  that,  as  love  alone  can  lead  to  the 
knowledge  of  God,  the  highest  knowledge  man 
can  gain  leads  but  to  love. 

Wouldst  thou  enter  God's  kingdom,  O  pil- 
grim of  earth  ?  then  love.  Wouldst  thou  share 
the  sweet  activities  of  its  citizens  ?  then  love. 
Wouldst  thou  know  Him  who  rules  over  them 
and  all  ?  then  love.  For  love  opens  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  and  love  makes  the  joyousness  of  its 
happy  services,  and  none  can  know  the  heart  of 
God  save  through  love  ;  for  God  is  love. 


LECTURE   VI 

THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL 

(LIFE  LOST  AND  FOUND) 

THERE  is  in  modern  thought  a  growing  interest  in 
the  soul.  The  verdict  of  the  Frenchman  is  being 
recognised,  "T6t  ou  tard  on  ne  jouait  que  des 
ames."  The  words  of  thinking  men  offer  evidence 
of  this  tendency.  Hoffding  reminds  us  that 
rationalistic  measurements  of  life  must  yield  to  a 
consideration  of  life-values.  Bergson  carries  us 
into  a  region  whose  atmosphere  is  psychical.  The 
spirit  of  dissatisfaction  and  unrest  which  prevailed 
a  generation  ago  has  given  place  to  one  which 
recognises  the  value  of  religious  experiences  : 
ethical  questions  have  taken  a  place  of  prominence 
in  thought.  The  soul  of  man  is  acknowledged 
as  having  rights  and  needs. 

In  the  light  of  the  movements  of  to-day  the 
Divina  Commedia  possesses  special  interest.  No 
one  will  deny  the  historic,  literary,  and  philosophical 

interest  of  the  poem  ;  but,  to  use  a  current  phrase, 

226 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      227 

the  poem  is  a  human  document  :  it  is  a  spiritual 
record.  It  is  much  more  than  a  Ghibelline  poem  : 
it  is  a  work  of  world  value,  because  it  is  the 
drama  of  a  soul.  Dante's  life  had  its  drama,  and, 
fromTtHe~exfernal  point  of  view,  the  drama  must 
be  called  a  tragedy  :  he  was  stripped  of  all  that 
he  held  dear  :  his  early  ambitions  were  crushed  : 
his  early  hopes  dissipated.  The  young  life  so  full 
of  promise  leads  to  a  life  which  closes  in  exile. 
But  beneath  the  tragedy  of  circumstances  there  is 
the  drama  of  a  soul,  and  this,  such  is  Dante's  own 
verdict,  is  not  tragedy.  The  drama  of  the  life  may 
end  tragically  :  the  drama  of  the  soul  is  a  divine 
comedy.  The  poem  is  not  merely  a  framework 
for  a  series  of  wonderful  and  arresting  pictures  : 
it  is  a  record  of  soul  experiences  :  it  is  the  story 
of  Dante's  own  spiritual  advance.  It  is  the 
Pilgrim  s  Progress  of  the  fourteenth  century. 

The  personal  note  is  heard  throughout  the 
poem.  It  is  not  a  work  in  which  a  great  poet's 
vivid  imagination  plays  over  a  theme  of .  world- 
wide interest :  it  is  a  personal  record.  The  pil- 
grimage he  takes  was  no  mere  excursion  of  the 
imagination  :  it  was  a  stern  necessity.  Only 
in  such  a  stern  experience  could  his  soul  reach 
emancipation. 

He  tried  to  climb  the  sunlit  hill  of  perpetual 
gladness  :  its  heaven-kissed  height  seemed  to 


228    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

beckon  him.  It  was  the  hill  of  the  Lord,  upon 
whose  summit  the  divine  light  for  ever  shone  : 
but  none  could  climb  that  hill  whose  hands  or 
hearts  were  stained  with  wrong.  "Who  shall 
ascend  the  hill  of  the  Lord  ? "  the  Psalmist  had 
asked,  and  the  Psalmist  answered  his  own  question  : 
"  Even  he  that  hath  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart." 
Obstacles  always  arose  in  the  path  of  the  guilty. 
Dante  tried  to  climb,  and  he  met  with  invincible 
difficulty.  For  a  time  he  had  hopes  of  success  : 
the  morning  shone  brightly,  the  distant  hill  seemed 
to  smile  in  the  early  light,  the  gay  creature  which 
appeared  to  hinder  his  steps  was  but  a  playful 
hindrance  ;  but  presently  the  air  trembled,  a  more 
majestic  beast  stood  across  his  path,  and,  lastly, 
the  lean  and  hungry  wolf  drove  the  poet  step 
by  step  towards  the  darkness  he  thought  that  he 
had  left  behind.  The  straightforward  way  is 
closed  to  him  :  so  he  is  told  that  for  him  there  is 
another  path.  The  direct  way  of  unstained  virtue 
is  not  for  him  :  for  him  there  is  another  and  a 
drearier  way. 

This  necessity  is  due  to  his  own  fault  or  sin. 
The  forms  of  evil,  threefold,  withstand  him  when 
he  seeks  to  climb.  In  the  language  of  the 
Psalmist,  he  is  fallen  into  the  evil  times  "  when 
the  wickedness  of  his  heels  compasses  him  round 
about."  Evil  has  been  sown,  and  it  becomes  the 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL     229 

parent  of  obstacles.  Its  opposition  is  felt,  not  in 
the  physical  realm,  but  in  the  spiritual.  The 
power  of  evil  is  not  in  things  external,  as  some 
have  deemed  :  the  external  consequences  of  wrong 
are  God's  :  they  are  the  chastenings  and  warnings 
of  a  divine  love.  The  power  of  evil  is  in  the 
spiritual  enfeeblement  which  results  from  evil 
indulged  in  :  it  is  seen  in  the  inability  to  act  with 
the  old  vigour  of  unsullied  rectitude  :  the  inertia 
of  righteous  indignation  :  the  paralysis  of  the 
power  to  pray,  when  the  words  fly  upward,  but 
the  thoughts  remain  below.  The  defeat  of  Dante 
on  the  hill  of  God  is  a  witness  of  spiritual 
deterioration.  Some  wrong  had  smitten  his  soul 
with  weakness. 

This  is  made  clear  in  the  words  of  Beatrice 
(Purg.  xxx.  100-145).  The  vision  of  Beatrice 
had  awakened  in  him  the  ideal  of  a  life,  noble, 
chivalrous,  woman-worthy.  Had  he  followed  this 
light,  his  might  have  been  a  bright  and  stainless 
career  :  misfortune  and  disaster  might  have  been 
his  lot,  but  these  would  have  been  easier  to  bear 
had  no  self-consciousness  of  wrong  shadowed  his 
heart  :  his  wound  had  then  been  a  clean  wound. 
But  when  Beatrice  died,  the  grief  which  over- 
whelmed him  was  the  prelude  of  a  reckless  time. 
He  gave  himself  to  others  :  Beatrice  was  less  to 
him  :  he  turned  into  false  paths  : 


230    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

"...  into  ways  untrue  he  turned  his  steps, 
Pursuing  the  false  images  of  good, 

So  low  he  fell,  that  all  appliances 
For  his  salvation  were  already  short, 
Save  showing  him  the  people  of  perdition." 

(Purg.  xxx.  130-138.) 

So  low  he  fell  that  his  friend  Guido  Cavalcanti 
flung  at  him  the  reproachful  words,  "la  vil  tua 
vita."  It  is  personal  wrong-doing  which  necessi- 
tated his  pilgrimage  :  in  it  he  must  not  only  be 
a  spectator,  he  must  also  participate  in  the  chastise- 
ment. In  the  Purgatorio  he  must  in  some  measure 
share  the  penalties  of  those  who  seek  purification  : 
he  must  stoop  low  with  the  proud  (Purg.  x.  121— 
135)  :  he  must  taste  the  acrid  breath  of  the  dark 
smoke  which  envelops  the  angry  (Purg.  xvi.  i-io)  : 
he  must  pass  through  the  fierce  flame  which  is 
the  portion  of  lust  (Purg.  xxv.  109—120). 

What  was  the  nature  of  the  fault  which  com- 
pelled Dante  to  encounter  such  experiences  ? 
We  must  answer  with  some  reserve  :  we  must 
refuse  to  yield  to  the  spirit  of  disproportionate 
curiosity.  In  this  drama  of  the  soul,  it  is  not  so 
much  specific  acts  of  wrong  which  are  of  moment  : 
it  is  the  general  disposition,  not  the  single  deed, 
which  counts.  The  awakened  soul  is  not  troubled 
so  much  by  the  wrong  things  which  he  did  as  by 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      231 

the  haunting  consciousness  of  the  lowered  or 
degraded  spirit  which  once  held  possession  of  him 
and  which  made  such  deeds  possible.  In  the 
retrospect  of  conscience  the  sense  that  we  ever 
were  dominated  by  such  and  such  an  ill  spirit 
brings  the  worst  torment.  This  would  be  felt 
most  keenly  in  the  Purgatorioy  for  it  is  not  the 
realm  in  which  wrong  actions  are  avenged,  but 
the  realm  in  which  the  spirit  itself  is  disciplined. 
There  Dante  is  made  to  take  a  retrospect  of  life. 
In  his  pilgrimage  he  recognises  those  evil  disposi- 
tions which  gained  at  one  time  or  another  the 
ascendancy  over  him. 

It  is  well  therefore  to  check  the  irrelevant 
curiosity  which  would  ask  chapter  and  verse  for 
some  special  act  of  wrong  ;  but  without  seeking 
such,  we  can  form  some  general  idea  of  the  way 
in  which  Dante  fell  below  that  ideal  of  life  to 
which  the  vision  of  Beatrice  called  him. 

In  the  Purgatorio  Dante  meets  with  Forese. 
Forese  was  a  man  whose  life  was  given  to  the 
pleasures  of  sense,  and  Dante,  speaking  of  the  life 
which  he  and  Forese  had  lived,  speaks  of  it  as  a 
time  of  which  they  might  be  ashamed  : 

"  If  thou  bring  back  to  mind 
What  thou  with  me  hast  been  and  I  with  thee, 
The  present  memory  will  be  grievous  still." 

(Purg.  xxiii.  115-118.) 


232    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

It  is  difficult  to  treat  these  words  except  as  a 
confession  that  Dante  and  Forese  had  what  in 
modern  parlance  would  be  described  as  a  gay 
time  together.  Beatrice's  words,  spoken  later, 
throw  further  light  upon  the  life  of  Dante  at  the 
time.  Thus  she  speaks  : 

cc .  .   .If  the  highest  pleasure  thus  did  fail  thee 
By  reason  of  my  death,  what  mortal  thing 
Should  then  have  drawn  thee  into  its  desire  ? 
Thou  oughtest  verily  at  the  first  shaft 
Of  things  fallacious  to  have  risen  up 
To  follow  me,  who  was  no  longer  such. 
Thou  oughtest  not  to  have  stooped  thy  pinions 

downward 

To  wait  for  further  blows,  or  little  girl, 
Or  other  vanity  of  such  brief  use." 

(Purg.  xxxi.  53-60.) 

The  truth  is,  I  think,  that  Dante  was  what 
has  been  called  impressionable  :  he  had  in  high 
degree  the  "joie  de  vivre":  he  was  "trasmut- 
abile" — ready  to  yield  to  the  influence  of  the 
hour  ;  happy  in  the  company  of  lively  and 
intelligent  ladies,  quickly  responsive  to  their 
smiles,  his  mercurial  spirit  caught  the  mood 
of  the  moment.  Whatever  seriousness  the 
chastenings  of  life  may  have  evoked  later, 
in  his  younger  days  he  shared  Horace's 
counsel, 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      233 

"  Nee  dulces  amores 
Sperne  puer  neque  tu  choreas, 
Donee  virenti  canities  abest 
Morosa."  (Carm.  i.  9.) 

It  is  not  needful  to  seek  out  particulars,  we  can 
picture  his  self-surrender  to  the  joyousness  of 
the  hour,  even  while  we  can  recognise  the  under- 
current of  sorrow  which  gives  an  air  of  reckless- 
ness to  the  merriment  of  the  moment. 

His  later  thoughts  may  have  intensified  his 
power  of  self-criticism  :  he  may  have  drawn  his 
tints  of  that  careless  time  with  too  dark  a  pencil. 
We  know  how  strong  is  the  self-condemnation 
which  devout  men  have  passed  upon  themselves. 
In  the  clear  light  of  spiritual  illumination  the 
faults  of  the  past  look  dark  indeed.  Never  from 
the  unawakened  soul  do  we  hear  such  language 
of  self-reproach  as  that  which  breaks  forth  from 
saintly  lips,  and  the  Divina  Commedia  breathes 
the  burden  of  the  wasted,  idle  hours  in  Dante's 
life  which  lay  heavy  upon  his  heart  and  memory. 
This  great  poem  is  like  a  broad  river  which  carries 
on  its  ample  bosom  much  freightage  for  many 
lands,  but  whose  stream  runs  steadily  in  one 
direction.  The  interests  awakened  by  the  poem 
are  many,  but  it  never  swerves  from  its  great 
purpose  as  the  record  of  the  deep  experiences 
of  a  soul. 


234    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

The  Divine  Comedy,  then,  is  the  record  of  per- 
sonal experience.  What  is  the  character  of  his 
experience  ?  The  author  has  deliberately  chosen 
from  the  Christian  year  the  days  which  he  spends 
in  his  pilgrimage.  The  time-marks,  as  they  are 
called,  have  commanded  the  interest  of  students 
because  of  their  clear  spiritual  significance.  The 
day  of  his  painful  experience  of  bewilderment, 
when  he  threaded  the  dark  mazes  of  the  rough 
wood  wherein  he  had  lost  his  way,  was  Maundy 
Thursday — the  day  when  the  Christ  was  troubled 
in  spirit  and  testified  that  one  of  His  disciples 
would  betray  Him.  The  daylight  of  Good  Friday 
morning  brings  hope  to  the  pilgrim,  but  it  is  the 
day  in  which  defeat  overtakes  him,  and  he  is 
driven  backward  and  downward  in  terror  :  as  the 
evening  falls  he  passes  onward  to  the  gate  of  hell. 
Through  the  night  of  Good  Friday,  the  whole  of 
the  following  Saturday,  and  the  Saturday  night  he 
is  in  the  Inferno.  On  the  Easter  morning  he 
emerges  from  the  gloom  of  that  shadow  of  death 
and  beholds  once  more  the  stars  of  heaven.  His 
soul  is  not  left  in  that  evil  grave,  called  the 
Inferno. 

The  imagery  of  the  times  selected  is  quite 
simple.  The  pilgrim  passes  through  an  experi- 
ence which  can  be  best  described  in  terms  drawn 
from  the  story  of  Christ.  St  Paul  gave  spiritual 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      235 

significance  to  the  experiences  of  Christ.  To  pass 
through  death  into  life  was  the  way  to  spiritual 
ripeness  of  age.  This  view  became  current  in 
Christendom.  It  found  expression  in  theological 
formulae  :  baptism  symbolised  the  experience  :  the 
convert  was  buried  with  Christ  in  baptism,  and 
raised  up  in  Him  to  newness  of  life.  Hymns 
sung  in  all  quarters  of  the  world  have  adopted  the 
same  spiritual  imagery.  The  scientific  investigator 
of  Christian  experiences  describes  the  psychological 
changes  of  these  experiences  in  terms  which  form 
a  parallel  to  this  spiritual  imagery.  The  spirit  of 
self-satisfaction,  he  says,  is  invaded  by  higher 
visions  of  life's  possibilities  :  intense  dissatisfac- 
tion becomes  the  portion  of  the  soul.  It  seems 
thrust  down  into  hell,  till  it  finds  a  new  power 
of  life  in  the  service  of  another  than  self,  and  so 
it  enters  into  a  life  upon  which  heaven's  light 
shines.  The  language  of  St  Paul  is  found  to 
be  expressive  of  an  experience  common  and 
constant :  "  I  was  alive  without  the  law  once,  but 
when  the  law  came,  sin  revived,  and  I  died,"  till 
"  being  crucified  with  Christ "  he  lived,  but  not 
he,  but  the  Christ  which  was  in  him. 

The  Divine  Comedy,  as  the  record  of  a  spiritual 
experience,  is  the  expansion  of  this  great  Christian 
formula  of  experience.  The  Inferno  is  the  revela- 
tion of  evil  :  the  witness  that  the  wages  of  sin  is 


236    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

death.  The  Purgatorio  is  the  life  of  struggle  to 
overcome  sin.  The  Paradiso  is  the  entering  into 
the  full  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.  The 
experiences  are  continuous  :  the  pilgrimage  is 
one  :  its  spiritual  significance  grows  clearer  as 
we  pass  from  stage  to  stage. 

The  pilgrim,  however,  is  never  outside  the  divine 
love  :  the  help  of  God's  grace  is  always  with  him  ; 
but  the  lessons  which  the  pilgrimage  is  to  teach 
must  be  learned  one  by  one,  and  learned  personally. 
He  must  learn  to  see  vice  in  its  own  ugliness.  He 
must  learn  the  need  of  effort  co-operating  with 
grace  :  he  must  learn  to  surrender  self  and  even 
self-effort  to  the  great  tide  of  the  divine  love 
which  sweeps  all  souls,  who  are  filled  with  good 
will,  back  to  the  embrace  of  God's  presence.  It 
is  a  pictorial  rendering  of  Christian  experience. 

It  may  be  felt  by  some  that  in  this  experience 
one  feature  is  lacking.  In  the  normal  records  of 
such  experiences  we  are  accustomed  to  hear  often 
the  name  of  Christ.  Christ  is  felt  to  be  personally 
the  life  power  of  the  visions  of  the  soul,  and  in 
the  Divina  Commedia  it  may  be  said  that  we  miss 
this  ecstatic  love  and  devotion  to  Christ. 

Let  us  see  how  the  matter  stands.  Christ,  the 
personal  Lord  of  the  soul,  does  not  appear  early 
in  the  narrative.  The  victory  of  the  triumphant 
Conqueror  on  the  cross  is  referred  to,  but  the 


DANTE,  AFTER  LUCA  SIGNORELLI. 
(Orvieto  :   The  Duomo.     Fresco.) 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      237 

names — Jesus  or  Christ — are  not  once  mentioned 
in  the  Inferno.  In  the  Purgatorio  proper  the  name 
Christ  appears  five  times,  but  only  allusively,  not 
as  taking  any  part  or  affording  any  spiritual 
strength  to  the  pilgrim.  Not  till  we  reach  the 
earthly  Paradise  do  we  learn  from  the  poet  what 
Christ  is  to  him,  or  what  part  Christ  plays  in  this 
great  tale  of  experience.  In  the  Paradiso  the  name 
Christ  occurs  thirty-four  times.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  number  of  times  in  which  the  sacred 
name  is  on  the  poet's  lips  which  we  seek  to 
know,  but  the  place  which  he  assigns  to  Christ  in 
this  great  story  of  a  soul's  redemption.  In  the 
earthly  Paradise,  and  in-  the  Paradiso  proper, 
Christ  is  introduced  three  times.  The  planet 
Mars,  which  is  the  heavenly  lodge  wherein  the 
martyrs  and  soldiers  of  Christ  may  be  met,  is 
appropriately  marked  with  the  sign  of  the  cross  : 
this  heaven  is  illustrious  with  those  who,  like 
their  master,  loved  not  their  lives  unto  death. 
But  the  two  occasions  more  relevant  to  our 
purpose  in  which  Christ  is  introduced  are  to  be 
found  earlier  and  later. 

In  Canto  xxix.  the  gryphon  appears  as  the 
emblem  of  Christ.  The  gryphon  draws  the  trium- 
phal chariot  of  the  Church.  Here  the  powers  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments  are  seen  :  here  the 
three  Christian  graces  and  the  four  cardinal  virtues 


238    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

are  gathered  together.  All  the  helps  and  incen- 
tives to  virtue  and  goodness,  all  the  inspiring 
appeals  which  warn  and  move  the  soul,  all  the 
various  ministries  by  the  way  are  assembled  in 
allegory,  and  the  power  which  draws  them  forward 
is  the  Christ  Himself.  All  that  has  helped  the 
pilgrim  has  been,  though  unknown  to  him,  due 
to  the  Christ  who  alone  gives  to  His  Church  its 
active  and  progressive  energy.  All  help  is  through 
Him.  But,  again,  if  I  understand  it  rightly,  Christ 
is  the  final  test  of  the  soul  ;  Dante,  when  he  hears 
the  reproaches  of  Beatrice,  stands  in  the  presence 
of  the  gryphon  (one  person  only  in  two  natures), 
that  is,  in  the  presence  of  Christ,  and  it  is  when 
Beatrice  turns  round  towards  the  Christ,  and  in 
His  presence  grows  more  glorious,  that  Dante 
feels  the  keenest  pangs  of  self-reproach  : 

"  So  pricked  me  then  the  thorn  of  penitence, 

That  of  all  other  things  the  one  which  turned  me 
Most  to  its  love  because  the  most  my  foe. 
Such  self-conviction  stung  me  at  the  heart, 

O'erpowered  I  fell.1'  (Purg.  xxxi.  85-89.) 

The  measure  of  Dante's  fault  is  the  wisdom 
brought  by  Christ  ;  so  it  is  before  Christ's  judg- 
ment-seat that  Dante  is  judged. 

But  Christ  is  not  for  judgment  alone  :  He  is 
for  redemption  ;  for  once  the  pilgrim  has  been 
plunged  into  the  waters  of  Lethe  and  has  tasted 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      239 

their  sweetness,  new  visions  are  granted  to  him. 
The  virtues,  which  are  nymphs,  but  in  the  full 
heaven  are  stars,  lead  him  back  towards  the 
gryphon.  The  three  graces  quicken  his  sight. 
Beatrice's  eyes  glow  with  intense  light  as  she 
gazes  at  the  gryphon  ;  and  lo  !  in  Dante's  view 
the  gryphon  is  seen  transforming  itself,  though 
motionless,  showing  now  one  nature,  now  another. 
It  is  the  symbol  of  Him  who  as  man  brings  God 
to  man,  and  as  God  brings  man  to  God,  the  one 
whose  changeless  love  shines  upon  man  with  light 
and  revelation  as  man  is  able  to  bear  it.  Thus 
Christ  is  seen  unveiling  His  glory  to  the  pilgrim. 
Through  the  eyes  and  soul  of  Beatrice  the 
revelation  comes.  She  is  the  divine  wisdom, 
the  splendour  of  the  living  light  eternal ;  but 
Christ  Himself,  the  gryphon,  is  the  living  light 
eternal,  through  whom  the  glory  of  all  wisdom 
comes.  He  is  the  judge  by  whom  all  souls  are 
tried  :  He  is  the  one  from  whom  streams  the 
light  of  highest  knowledge,  with  comfort  and 
strength. 

In  harmony  with  this,  we  find  that  in  the 
heaven  of  the  Fixed  Stars,  Christ  is  the  central 
and  triumphant  light :  there  the  victory  of  His 
life  and  death  is  made  manifest  :  His  light  is  like 
that  of  the  sun  :  so  intense  is  that  light  that 
Dante  is  smitten  with  blindness  : 


24o    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

"  What  overmasters  thee, 
A  virtue  is  from  which  naught  shields  itself. 
There  are  the  wisdom  and  the  omnipotence 

That  oped  the  thoroughfares  'twixt  heaven  and  earth, 
For  which  there  erst  had  been  so  long  a  yearning." 

(Par.  xxiii.  35-39.) 

When  sight  came  back  to  him  Dante  realises  that 
all  around  him  there  is  music  and  light.  What 
he  sees  is  like  the  glory  of  some  half-remembered 
vision.  The  splendour  has  a  touch  of  familiarity 
about  it.  His  soul  recognises,  yet  cannot  wholly 
recall,  what  shines  upon  him  in  the  smile  of 
Beatrice.  Beatrice  bids  him  look  upon  the 
Garden  of  the  Saints,  seen  like  flowers  :  upon 
them  rays  of  Christ  are  shining,  and  under  that 
light  they  are  blossoming.  Melody  sweet  and 
entrancing  breathes  everywhere,  and  proclaims 
itself  as  the  angelic  love,  which  encompasses  her 
who  gave  Christ  to  the  world,  and  will  still  circle 
round  her  as  she  follows  her  Son. 

"  And  I  shall  circle,  Lady  of  Heaven,  while 
Thou  followest  thy  Son,  and  mak'st  diviner 
The  sphere  supreme,  because  thou  enterest  there." 

(Par.  xxiii.  106-108.) 

Such  was  the  light  and  gladness  of  the  saints — the 
"...  company  elect  to  the  great  Supper 
Of  the  Lamb  benedight,"       (Par.  xxiv.  1-2.) 

who  feedeth  them  so  that  they  hunger  no  more. 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      241 

As  we  follow  the  poet's  progress  we  can  estimate 
in  some  degree  what  the  Christ  is  to  his  soul. 
Christ  is  the  One  who  draws  to  him  all  the  helps 
and  comforts,  the  graces  and  virtues  which  are  to 
fill  his  soul.  As  the  pilgrim  passes  upward  the 
glory  of  Christ  is  unfolded  to  him  in  the  victory 
of  the  cross  and  the  dazzling  light  of  His  nearer 
presence.  Every  step  of  the  way  is  marked,  not 
only  by  enlarged  revelation  of  the  divine  glory, 
but  by  increased  capacity  of  spiritual  perception, 
till  in  the  final  vision  of  the  triumph  of  Christ  he 
approaches  that  stage  when  he  can  realise  what 
the  Apostle  meant  when  he  dreamed  of  presenting 
every  man  perfect  in  Christ  Jesus.  Thus  the 
pilgrimage  of  the  soul  does  not  end  with  the 
earthly  Paradise.  It  passes  upward  to  fuller 
revelations  and  fresher  invigorations  of  spirit  :  it 
sees  new  glories,  and  it  undergoes  a  subtle  and 
continuous  change  of  inward  capacity.  In  other 
words,  the  experiences  of  the  soul  as  told  in  the 
poem  do  not  cease  with  the  attainment  of  the 
earthly  Paradise. 

We  need  to  examine  the  nature  and  conditions 
of  this  final  or  Paradise  experience  of  the  soul. 

There  are  two  experiences  mentioned  which 
call  for  our  attention.  They  are  experiences 
which  are  different  in  character  from  any  of  the 

earlier    experiences    in    the   Purgatorio    or   in    the 

16 


242    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

Inferno.  One  is  the  experience  of  movement : 
the  other  that  of  change.  The  poet  discovers 
that  he  is  moving  upward  rapidly  without  any 
personal  consciousness  of  movement.  Light  in- 
creases round  the  pilgrim  :  to  him  it  seems  that 
the  light  of  one  day  is  added,  as  though  God  had 
added  to  the  heavens  a  second  sun  (Par.  i.  61-63). 
As  Dante  longs  to  understand  this,  Beatrice  tells 
him  : 

"  Thou  art  not  upon  earth,  as  thou  believest ; 
But  lightning,  fleeing  its  appropriate  site, 
Ne'er  ran  as  thou."  (Par.  i.  91—93.) 

He  has  been  moving  upward  without  knowing 
it.     The  nature  of  all  things  is  to  move  towards 
God.     In  Dante's  case  the  obstacles  which  thwarted 
this  natural  movement  have  been  removed,  and 
now  he  is  borne  onward  as  an  arrow  to  its  mark 
by  the  impulse  of  the  vibrating  cord  : 
"  And  thither  now,  as  to  a  site  decreed, 
Bears  us  away  the  virtue  of  that  cord 
Which  aims  its  arrows  at  a  joyous  mark." 

(Par.  i.  124-126.) 

He  ought  not  to  wonder  at  this,  for  to  his  renewed 
soul  this  movement  is  according  to  the  order  of 
its  being  : 

"  Thou  shouldst  not  wonder  more,  if  well  I  judge, 
At  thine  ascent,  than  at  a  rivulet 
From  some  high  mount  descending  to  the  lowland. 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL      243 

Marvel  it  would  be  in  thee,  if  deprived 

Of  hindrance,  thou  wert  seated  down  below. 
As  if  on  earth  the  living  fire  were  quiet." 

(Par.  i.  136-141.) 

The  other  experience  is  that  of  change.  He 
discovers  that  the  change  which  he  thinks  is 
taking  place  in  the  object  he  beholds,  is  not  a 
change  in  the  object  but  a  change  in  himself. 
The  highest  vision  of  all  is  of  that  which  does 
not  change  : 

"  For  it  is  always  what  it  was  before  ; 
But  though  the  sight,  that  fortified  itself 
In  me  by  looking,  one  appearance  only 
To  me  was  ever  changing  as  I  changed." 

(Par.  xxxiii.  111-114.) 

This  principle  of  a  change  in  the  soul  as  the 
pilgrim  advances  seems  to  be  consistently  adhered 
to  in  the  Paradiso  ;  whatever  new  visions  meet 
him,  he  passes  through  some  change  ;  some  new 
virtue  or  capacity  is  given  to  him  that  he  may  be 
enabled  to  behold  the  glories  which  are  being 
disclosed  to  him.  In  the  first  canto,  as  we  have 
seen,  he  compared  this  change  to  that  which  befell 
Glaucus,  when  he  tasted 

"  of  the  herb  that  made  him 
Peer  of  the  other  gods  beneath  the  sea." 

(Par.  i.  68-69.) 


244    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

In  the  vision  of  Christ's  triumph  he  knew  that 
inner  strength  was  vouchsafed  to  him.  He 
compared  his  growing  power  of  mind  to  a  fire 
unlocking  itself  from  a  cloud,  dilating  itself  be- 
yond the  limits  of  its  prison  house  : 

"  So  did  my  mind,  among  those  aliments 
Becoming  larger,  issue  from  itself." 

(Par.  xxiii.  43-44.) 

The  spiritual  counterpart  of  these  things  is  found 
in  the  experience  of  the  soul.  The  Paradise 
differs  from  the  Purgatorio^  as  effortless  progress 
differs  from  laborious  upward  advance.  In  the 
Purgatorio  every  step  means  effort,  the  pilgrim  is 
conscious  of  fatigue  and  failing  strength  ;  it  is 
exertion  felt  and  known  till  the  summit  is  reached. 
But  in  the  Paradiso^  all  is  changed  :  there  is  no 
cessation  of  movement,  but  it  is  movement  with- 
out effort  :  the  soul  is  borne  upward  by  the 
irresistible  law  of  its  own  restored  nature  :  a  force 
greater  than  its  own  bears  it  forward.  In  the 
Purgatorio  the  pilgrim  tries  and  toils  ;  in  the 
Parad'iso  he  needs  only  to  surrender  himself  to 
the  great  divine  tide  of  goodness  which  sets 
Godward.  The  life  of  conflict  is  exchanged  for 
the  life  of  full  assurance  of  faith.  As  long  as  the 
soul  is  governed  by  the  sense  of  law,  the  battle 
between  the  conscience  and  impulse  goes  on  ;  the 


DANTE,  FROM  GIOTTO'S  FRESCO  IN  THE  BARGELLO. 

(From  the  reproduction  published  by  the  Arundel  Society  in  1859.) 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL    245 

heart  is  not  wholly  given  to  the  highest  ;  the 
arena  of  conflict  is  in  the  moral  sphere  of 
conscience  and  passion,  each  clamouring  for  the 
verdict  of  the  hesitating  will ;  but  when  the  love 
of  the  divine  fills  the  soul,  the  will  is  carried 
captive  to  right  :  the  struggle  ends  ;  liberty  is 
reached,  for  the  spirit  is  emancipated  from  the 
claims  of  the  lower  ;  the  will  of  God  becomes  our 
will  ;  in  His  will  is  our  peace  (Par.  iii.  85)  :  His 
service  is  perfect  freedom,  for  in  it  we  are  working 
according  to  the  true  order  of  our  being.  This 
joyous  and  effortless  movement  is  the  abiding  law 
of  the  Paradiso.  The  soul  need  struggle  no  more  ; 
it  has  found  rest  and  liberty  in  the  divine  order  : 
it  surrenders  itself  to  the  tide  of  the  divine  life 
which  flows  freely  around  it :  such  souls  are  led  by 
the  spirit  of  God,  because  they  are  sons  of  God. 

This  is  none  other  than  the  great  surrender  of 
recognised  spiritual  experience.  "  I  live,  yet  not  I," 
cried  St  Paul  :  his  old  nature  is  self-condemned, 
the  new  man  is  recognised  in  the  economy  of  the 
soul.  The  Christian  pilgrim  is  content  to  be  led 
by  God.  He  is  no  longer  nervously  solicitous 
about  saving  his  soul  :  he  puts  no  anxious  hand 
upon  the  ark  when  it  seems  to  shake  :  he  is  con- 
tent to  let  God  do  His  own  work.  His  thought 
is  Godward.  "When  shall  I  appear  before  God  ?" 
"  My  soul  is  athirst  for  God,  yea,  even  for  the 


246    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

living    God."      "Show    us    the    Father    and    it 
sufficeth  us."     These  are  his  prayers. 

With  this  comes  the  other  experience  of  the 
soul — the  inward  change  which  sometimes  seems 
a  change  in  outward  things.  Life  is  just  the 
same  as  before  :  duties  are  the  same,  work  is  the 
same,  friends  are  the  same  ;  but  all  these  appear 
to  have  changed  their  meaning,  their  value,  their 
interest.  A  new  beauty  and  charm  have  been 
added  to  life.  In  its  light  we  see  light.  If  we 
grow  pure  by  being  purely  shone  upon,  we  gain 
through  purity  a  clearer  and  happier  view  of  life. 
As  we  follow  the  pilgrim  poet  in  his  upward  flight, 
and  notice  the  growing  intensity  of  light  through 
which  he  moves,  we  feel  that  the  Paradiso  is  but  an 
expansion  of  the  familiar  words  :  "  We,  beholding 
as  in  a  mirror  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are  changed 
from  glory  to  glory  even  as  by  the  spirit  of  the 
Lord."  The  pilgrim  himself  is  unconscious  of  the 
change :  he  cannot  explain  :  whether  in  the  body 
or  out  of  the  body  matters  not.  His  progress 
is  like  growth  :  it  is  something  which  goes  on  : 
something  which  he  does  not  feel,  but  rather  of 
which  he  becomes  aware  as  stage  succeeds  stage 
in  the  miracle  of  life's  progress.  It  is  the  experi- 
ence of  which  Greene  wrote  : 

"  Then  comes  the  Spirit  to  our  hut, 
When  fast  the  senses'  doors  are  shut." 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL     247 

The  natural  sense  is  superseded  when  the  things 
of  the  spirit  take  their  place  in  our  experience, 
for  they  are  spiritually  discerned.  The  spirit 
searcheth  all  things,  even  the  deep  things  of 
God. 

Thus  the  experiences  indicated  in  the  Paradiso 
fall  into  line  with  the  spiritual  experiences  of 
awakened  souls.  They  are  not  fictions  of  the 
fancy  :  though  Dante,  with  his  adventurous  imag- 
ination, has  clothed  them  with  dazzling  apparel ; 
they  are  still  but  splendid  forms  of  personal 
experiences  which  have  been  shared  by  multitudes 
since  St  Paul  wrote  his  Epistles  and  St  Augustine 
his  Confessions.  Dante  expresses  in  his  way  what 
Tauler  told  in  his  sermons  and  what  Bunyan 
detailed  in  his  Pilgrim  s  Progress. 

The  value  of  the  Divina  Commedia  is  various.  It 
repays  the  study  of  the  historian,  the  philosopher, 
the  archaeologist,  the  naturalist,  but  its  central 
thought  reveals  its  spiritual  value.  That  value 
springs  from  its  personal  quality,  and  that  personal 
quality  is  the  spiritual  experience  of  the  poet 
set  forth  in  his  own  subtle,  splendid,  and  ample 
fashion. 

Is  there  any  further  word  to  be  said  ?  Yes, 
one.  1  have  said  that  there  is  a  word  which  is 
like  the  keynote  to  the  whole  poem.  That  word 
is  love.  Amore  is  whispered  in  the  dark  shades  of 


248    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

the  Inferno  :  it  is  enunciated  with  clearness  in  the 

Purgatorio  :  it  becomes  music  and  perpetual  song 

in  the  Paradiso.     It  was  love  which  made  Dante 

L  face  the  hideous  revelations  of  the  Inferno  :  it  was 

j  love  which  sent  him  Virgil — Reason — as  a  guide : 
it  was  love  which  bore  him  slumbering  to  the 
gate  of  the  Purgatory  :  it  was  love  which  sent 

\  him  sweet  dreams  of  warning  and  of  hope :  it  was 
love  which  challenged  him  to  enter  the  flame,  in 
which  all  the  gross  dregs  of  passion  were  purged 
away  that  love's  fire  might  burn  with  clear  purity 
once  more.  It  was  love's  realm  into  which  he 
entered  as  he  mounted  upward  with  Beatrice  at  his 
side.  It  was  at  last  into  the  flaming  heart  of  divine 
love  that  he  looked,  and  learned  that  love  was 
the  moving  power  and  final  rest  of  the  universe. 
It  is  of  love — divine,  unfailing,  changeless  love  : 
of  love — almighty,  inexorable,  inspiring  love  of 
which  he  sings.  God's  love — to  be  seen,  felt, 
known,  realised  everywhere  and  always  in  human 
life — is  his  message  to  his  fellow-men.  To  give 
such  a  message,  expressed  in  such  unexampled 
splendour  of  form,  was  a  lot  which  compensated 
for  a  thousand  sorrows  and  disappointments.  Had 
his  lot  been  less  shadowed  with  grief,  he  would 
perchance  have  achieved  far  less.  Had  he  been 
successful  in  his  early  ambitions,  he  might  have 
been  known  as  a  magistrate  whose  name  found  a 


THE  DRAMA  OF  THE  SOUL     249 

place  among  the  city  records  of  Florence  ;  but 
sorrow  claimed  him  and  sorrow  crowned  him  : 
she  put  this  deathless  song  in  his  mouth  :  she 
made  him  sing,  but  it  was  no  threnody  he  sang — 
for  God  put  His  own  new  song  into  his  mouth, 
and  the  Divina  Commedia  is  a  thanksgiving  unto 
God. 

And  now  that  our  task  is  ended,  how  shall  I 
pass  on  the  message  of  Dante  to  you  ?  Some  of 
you  are  on  the  threshold  of  life  :  different  callings 
and  different  destinies  lie  before  you.  Here  you 
meet  :  in  a  little  time  you  will  be  scattered  : 
many  and  various  will  be  your  occupations,  but 
whatever  your  work  among  the  countless  useful 
and  honourable  avocations  of  your  country,  your 
life  may  be  noble  and  true.  As  one  honoured 
among  the  many  honoured  names  of  Harvard 

sang: 

"  In  many  ways  may  life  be  given, 
And  loyalty  to  truth  be  sealed 
As  bravely  in  the  closet  as  the  field, 
So  bountiful  is  fate." 

Yes — for  love  is  over  all  life  :  that  is  Dante's 
message  :  love  is  over  all  life.  That  very  love 
may  call  you  to  disappointment,  batter  you  with 
undeserved  blows,  fling  you  aside  neglected,  yes, 
plunge  you  into  hell,  or  bid  you  climb  the  bitter 
steep  of  some  laborious  Purgatory  ;  but  it  will 


250    SPIRITUAL  MESSAGE  OF  DANTE 

not  leave  you  nor  forsake  you  :  it  will  bring  you 
out  into  the  sweet  table-land  of  peace  ;  it  will 
show  you  at  length  that  life  is  always  under  the 
rule  of  that  eternal  love  by  which  the  sun,  the 
stars,  and  all  creation  move. 


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